Tomatoes

When I arrive at the farmers' market, I usually like to do one round to see what all the vendors have and then go back and buy the best from each farmer. This morning, however, I was seduced by the tomatoes at the very first stand I came to. She had these gorgeous little yellow ones and, beside the flats of perfect heirloom tomatoes, a flat of equally perfect, as far as I could tell, seconds for half the price. Local tomatoes. Cheap. How can you go wrong?

After briefly considering using them with the baby zucchini and summer squash I got from the same woman in some pasta thing, I decided to make a quick tomato salad.

Quick tomato salad

• a few tomatoes, large or small
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• large handful flat-leaf parsley, minced
• 1 Tbs. good olive oil
• 1 tsp. vinegar or your choice
• generous pinch salt
• good grind of pepper

• Chop tomatoes, removing the seeds if you so desire, and place in bowl. Mince garlic and parsley and add to tomatoes. Add salt and pepper. Drizzle with oil and vinegar. Mix together. Set aside while you do something else, allowing flavors to marry.

Try substituting basil for the parsley.

Toast came instantly to mind once the salad had been made. I don't have a toaster, so when I say toast you can think of this instead: I take a nice thick slice of good bread, spread butter on one side, and put it butter side down on a hot dry pan. I put something heavy on top of the bread and when the buttered side is golden-brown it's done. One side is crispy and buttery and the other side its perfect complement: warm and soft. And I do love a poached egg on toast. So lunch became quick tomato salad with poached egg on toast.

Mulberries

I am so glad I went for a walk around the block this afternoon. I've been feeling a bit cooped up the past few days--a summer cold, knee surgery, and an entire month of rain will do that to even the most stalwart soul--so following on the success of yesterday's short venture outside, I decided to go for a stroll before cooking dinner. My block is not the most picturesque and I hesitated before turning the corner, but in the end I decided to take my chances. If only all my gambles ended so deliciously.

I past the saw mill on the left, S.'s house on the right, and just ahead saw a man obscured by foliage greedily gobbling whatever was growing on the tree. I started to walk by, but thought better of it and instead asked, "What do you have there?" "Berries." "Mmm. What kind?" "Mulberries." "I thought so," I said, "My mom and I were just talking about mulberries." And without an invitation I picked one for myself and popped it in my mouth. He assured me they were very poisonous. Not worth eating. Really, very bad for you. I paid him no heed and continued to pick and eat the small fruits because they were delish and just as much mine as his. I ate a few more and then picked myself a handful to take home for dessert. When the berries started rolling off the mound I held in my palm I started to feel like the greedy character in a Greek moral tale and decided I had enough.

Several possibilities ran through my head: mulberry cobbler for one; mulberry tartlets; mulberry crisp; mulberry crumble. In the end I just sprinkled them with a bit of sugar, let them macerate while I prepared and ate dinner, and yummed them up with some whipped cream and two of the langues du chat I made on Sunday.

I don't think you'll find them at market, somehow. They're not as luscious as a blackberry or spritely as a raspberry, but they're a fine berry in there own right. They're firmish, subtly sweet, and definitely tart--if you happen upon one that is perfectly ripe the sweetness does actually outweigh the tartness. Their seeds don't get stuck in your teeth--I didn't notice them at all--which is nice and although their little green stems don't seem to come off, I didn't notice them any more than I did the seeds. If you ever get the chance, definitely give these berries a try.

Having discovered this mulberry tree, I feel my block has become that much more attractive. I'll be walking that way more often, I think, and if there are any berries left--if the birds and that man haven't eaten them all--I'd like to pick enough to bake something.

Q Tonic: A Taste Test

I was in Brooklyn a few weeks ago and while there picked up some locally produced food goods. I got the divine Mast Brothers chocolate used in yesterday's pots de crème and this tonic water. The 'Q' presumably standing for quinine, the essential ingredient in tonic water (not high fructose corn syrup, as we have been brought to believe).

Ages ago when my family lived in Johannesburg, my parents would quite often have friends over for dinner. I knew we would be having company when several bottles of tonic water appeared on the kitchen counter and olives sat tantalizingly in the fridge. Fortunately, my parents were not of the go-to-your-rooms-til-the-company's-gone persuasion, but let my brother and sister and me join the grown-ups at the table. I always ate too many olives and felt very cosmopolitan drinking my glass of tonic water.

Somewhere along the line drinking tonic water became less daring. When I was little, tonic had a nice bitterness to it. As I grew up, I thought it was a maturation of my taste buds that made what once had been pleasingly bitter seem sweeter and sweeter. I think now that it had more to do with the addition of copious amounts of high fructose corn syrup. I am very pleased to taste a tonic water with a more complex flavor than I have come to expect, the bitter edge I remember, and not a hint of hfcs. This truly is 'a superior tonic water.' I can't wait to try it with gin.

Chocolate Pots de Crème with Langues du Chat

Eight dollars might seem like a lot to spend on two and a half ounces of chocolate one is only going to cook with. I probably should have savored each square over the course of a month with an after dinner liqueur or espresso. They do say, however, that one should never cook with wine one wouldn't drink and I don't see why the same shouldn't hold true with chocolate. And besides, I had raw Jersey cream in the fridge, 'cause I always do, and last week's eggs that needed using, and one can always find 1/4 cup of sugar in the pantry--so pots de crème it had to be.

Chocolate Pots de Crème

serves 6

• 5 oz. good dark chocolate, finely chopped
• 2 cups heavy cream, please not ultrapasteurized
• 4 egg yolks, room temperature
• 1/2 cup sugar
• pinch salt, cause it always helps

• Preheat oven to 300°F. Bring a quart or so of water to a simmer over medium heat. Arrange 6 ramekins (or tea cups, or small bowls) so they are not touching in a large baking dish and set aside.
• Have the chopped up chocolate ready in a medium bowl. In a small saucepan bring the cream just to a simmer over medium heat. Pour cream into chocolate and stir until completely melted. This might take a few minutes. If necessary, hold the bowl over the water you're bringing to a simmer for a few seconds to melt the last few stubborn bits. Be sure to stir constantly. Set aside.
• Whisk the yolks, sugar, and pinch salt together in a large bowl until they have thickened and become pale, about 2 minutes. Slowly whisk in about 1/3 of the chocolate mixture. Once combined add the rest while stirring constantly and trying not to incorporate any air.
• Strain the custard mixture into a large measuring cup or that perfect bowl which pours well. Once strained, divide the mixture among the ramekins. Rap each dish sharply on the counter a few times to eliminate any air bubbles.
• Carefully pour the water you have heated into the baking dish so it comes about half way up the sides of the ramekins. Cover baking dish with foil and poke several holes in it to allow steam to escape. Bake about 25 minutes or until the outer edge of the custard is set but it is still jiggly in the center. (In my opinion, it is better to take them out too early than too late. Nothing is more disappointing than rubbery, overcooked custard.)
• Remove ramekins to a rack and allow to cool to room temperature. Serve straight away or cover with plastic and refrigerate up to 4 days. Allow pots de crème to come back up to room temperature before serving.

Pictured here with a langue du chat.

As for the langues du chat. The pots took 2 egg yolks and, as you might have noticed, I am not one to throw out left over whites. One instantly thinks of meringue when there are whites sitting on the counter, but I didn't want to make meringues. I had been wanting to try langues du chat for some time and thought a crisp, plain cookie would go well with my pots de crème. I found a recipe in Paula Peck's The Art of Fine Baking and was delighted to see that it called for egg whites. I do love it when a plan comes together.

Langues du Chat

Paula Peck

• 1/2 cup butter
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 3 egg whites
• 1 cup flour, sifted
• pinch salt
• 1/2 tsp. vanilla

• Preheat oven to 400°F. Line baking sheets with parchment and set aside.
• Cream butter and sugar together. Beat in unbeaten egg whites a little at a time, beating very well after each addition. Fold in flour, salt, and vanilla.
• Fit a pastry bag with a round 1cm tip and fill with batter. On prepared baking sheets, press out pencils of batter about 2 inches long. Leave 1 inch between cookies for spreading.
• Bake about 7 minutes, or until edges of cookies are golden brown. Centers should remain light. Remove cookies from baking sheet at once.
• Yield: approximately 50.

A delicious accompaniment to chocolate pots de crème.

The chocolate I used from the Mast Brothers of Brooklyn--72% cacao with sea salt--gave my pots de crème a very particular, even peculiar, yet not at all unpleasant flavor. Very chocolaty, but with something else besides. Not salty, really, but something...something obviously difficult to describe. The texture was heavenly, though. What else could one expect when using the best cream in the world and eggs from chickens I've met.

This was my first attempt at langues du chat and there are several things I wish I'd known before I started. When eaten soon after coming out of the oven they are perfect--crispy and buttery and melt on your tongue. If humidity is an issue where you live, as it is here, your cookies will soon become soft even if stored in an air tight container. Also, and next time I'll try this, many recipes call for powdered sugar instead of granulated. Apparently it maximizes cookie spread, minimizes aeration during mixing, and lends a finer texture to the finished cookie. One other tip: have a steady hand while piping out the cookies and try not to spread the dough with the tip as you pipe. Any irregularities will be magnified as the cookies spread. An entire sheet of mine came out wiggly due to uneven piping.

All the same, they were delicious and a lovely accompaniment to a rich chocolate pudding.

Waffles

It is not necessary that you forget to give your yoghurt its hot water bottle in order to make waffles, but such was the inspiration for these. Without its hot water bottle, as warm as it is in my bathroom, my yoghurt will not form properly. That's what happened last week. Instead of yoghurt I ended up with two quarts of gently soured milk. I couldn't just throw it away. Well, I did throw some of it away, but I saved one quart of it and stuck it in the door of the fridge, certain I would think of something to do with it. The something I thought of was waffles.

Waffles

to serve 4-6

• 2 cups white whole wheat flour
• 1 1/2 cups sour milk, buttermilk, yoghurt, kefir, or or or
• 3 eggs separated
• 2 Tbs. butter
• 2-4 Tbs. maple syrup
• 1 tsp. vanilla
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1/2 cup rolled oats
• 1 cup water
• 1 Tbs. yoghurt or whey

• Combine the flour and your chosen fermented dairy product, cover, and leave in a warm place for 12-24 hours. Soak the oats overnight in 1/2 cup of the water, warmed, and the tablespoon of yoghurt or whey. The next morning, don't throw away the flour mixture and opt for cereal instead if a brown-black sludge has developed on the top. Stir it in, instead, watch it disappear, and forget it ever existed. (I have it on good authority that this sometimes happens with sourdough starters and it is perfectly harmless, if a little unappetizing.)
• Melt the butter, add it to the flour mixture, then cook the oats with the remaining 1/2 cup of water in the same pot.
• To the sour milk-flour-butter mixture add the yolks, syrup (more or less, depending on the sweetness of your tooth), vanilla, and salt. Once the oats are cooked, allow them to cool slightly, then add them to the batter.
• Whip the egg whites with a pinch of salt until stiff. Fold them into the batter.
• Cook in a waffle iron and serve waffles as they come out, or keep them warm in the oven so everyone can eat together.

Serve with good butter and maple syrup or honey or jam

If you like crispy waffles, these are not for you. If you, as I,prefer soft, slightly chewy, almost sourdoughy waffles, they most certainly are. And the best thing about having waffles for breakfast is having them again at tea time, so be sure to save the leftovers.

My New Grain Mill & Digestive Biscuits

While I was leafing through Farmhouse Cookery the other day, I noticed several recipes calling for oatmeal of varying coarseness. I was a bit mystified. All of a sudden I had no idea what oatmeal was. Maybe I could just crush up some rolled oats? I really didn't know, but was seriously considering attempting digestive biscuits made with rolled oats given a spin in my Cuisinart when I came across a recipe call for porridge oats. Now I was doubly confused, but two things came to mind:

all the oat groats that had ever passed through my check out line and the KitchenAid grain mill attachment a friend had been given for her last birthday or Christmas or something. At this point I was determined to make digestive biscuits and flummery and most probably oatcakes and to grind my own meal for all of them. I immediately texted S. about her mill. I had borrowed her KitchenAid ice cream maker a couple weeks before, so figured she'd be willing to let me use her grain mill.

Three or four texts later I had bought the never-before-used mill for 40 bucks. Lucky me! I wouldn't have the mill for five days or so, but the anticipation was killing me so I bought a sack of groats anyway. At long last (a day late) I got my grain mill attachment. I actually sat down and read the instructions before attempting to grind my oats and was dismayed to learn that it didn't particularly like whole oat groats. It wanted them hulled first. I didn't have hulled oats. I didn't have access to hulled oats, but I wasn't going to be put off so easily.

My compromise to the mill was to put the groats through on the very coarsest setting and then run the resulting meal through on finer settings until I had what I thought resembled "medium oatmeal" having no point of reference other than all the McVitties I have ever eaten. The mill co-operated and if the digestive biscuits that came out of the oven are any indication, I seem to have judged the coarseness pretty well. The grind could have been a fraction finer, but I quite liked the extra roughage. (The user manual also suggests using rolled oats, which might be easier to grind more finely. I'll try that next time and let you know.)

Digestive Biscuits

makes about one dozen

• 4 oz. medium oatmeal
• 4 oz. wholemeal flour
• 2 oz. sugar
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 1/2 tsp. baking soda
• 3 oz. butter
• 1 small egg, beaten

• Mix together the oatmeal, flour, sugar, salt, and soda. Rub in the butter with the fingertips, then add the egg and mix well.
• Place the dough on a working surface sprinkled with oatmeal. Roll out to 1/8-1/4 inch thick, and cut into 3-inch rounds. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake at 375°F for 10-15 minutes.
• Replace the wholemeal flour with plain flour if you prefer biscuits with less roughage. (I can't recommend this, personally, but if you must...)

Excellent plain, dipped in chocolate, or with butter and cheese.

The benefits of grinding one's own grains are many. There is, of course, the pure satisfaction of making something from scratchier than scratch. There's the assurance that nothing has been added to your flour--or taken away. There's knowing your flour isn't rancid. But, perhaps most importantly, there is the flavor. A nuttier digestive you have not had. Not the cardboard McV, whose saving grace is its dubious chocolate coating, but a nutty, buttery, flaky biscuit excellent plain, but worthy of being coated in the finest chocolate or of sandwiching a velvety ganache, and simply crying out to be dipped in a dead milky cup of tea. So raise your mugs to the oat groat, Farmhouse Cookery, and the grain mill that could.

Strawberries

I know a woman who grew up on a blueberry and strawberry farm in Maine. She no longer has a taste for either blueberries or strawberries. Nor does she like lobster. For the rest of us it was very exciting on Saturday to see, among the varied shades of young, spring greens, the brilliant red of the season's first strawberries.

I intend to make piles of strawberry jam this year, but the first berries of the season should really be enjoyed as unadorned as possible. There's a gelato stand at the market this year and mom suggested we have a cup. We both chose the Tahitian vanilla and found a sunny spot to sit in while we ate. The gelato was incredible. And then I remembered the pint of strawberries in my shopping bag. I pulled out a berry, scooped up a bite of gelato with it, and bit into it. Now, that's the way to eat the first strawberry of the season.

I ate a couple more berries with my gelato, but saved the majority of them for strawberry shortcake. I have become a devotee of Claudia Fleming's biscuit recipe. It includes hard-boiled egg yolks and heavy cream and is perfect on cobblers and equally divine with strawberries and cream.

Biscuits

Claudia Fleming (mostly)

• 1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
• 3 1/2 Tbs. sugar
• 1 Tbs. plus 1/2 tsp. baking powder
• 2 hard-boiled egg yolds
• 1/8 tsp. salt
• 6 Tbs. cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 2 tsp. citrus zest (if you like)
• heavy cream, plus more for brushing on top

• In the bowl of a food processor, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, egg yolks, and salt. Pulse to combine. Add the butter and zest (if using) and pulse until the flour resembles coarse meal. Add the cream and pulse until the dough comes together. Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and pat it together, incorporating any stray crumbs. Knead the dough a couple times so everything comes nicely together.
• Pat into a circle about 6 inches in diameter and 3/4 to 1-inch thick. Using a fluted biscuit cutter (my preference) or anything else you have to hand (a water glass, a baked bean tin, last Christmas's mitten cookie cutter, andonandon), cut out biscuits. You should get about six (depending, of course, on how big or small you make them.) Place biscuits on a parchment-lined baking sheet and chill for 20 minutes.
• Preheat oven to 400°F. Brush tops of biscuits lightly with heavy cream and sprinkle with coarse sugar. Bake until risen and golden brown, 10-12 minutes. Turn baking sheet around halfway through to ensure even cooking. Cool on racks several minutes before assembling shortcakes.

Heap with strawberries and top with unsweetened whipped cream.

To prepare the strawberries just wash them, remove their stems, and quarter them. Toss them with a dusting of sugar and a squeeze of lemon juice and let them macerate while the biscuits are cooking (longer if using woody, shipped-in berries, but you wouldn't).

If you're using this biscuit recipe for a cobbler, reduce the oven temperature to 350°F and bake about 40 minutes, or until fruit is bubbling and biscuits are golden.

And just a quick note on cream: Granted, I am lucky to be able to buy the best Jersey cream ever directly from the farm. You merely look at it and it whips. You eat a spoonful straight from the jar and hear choruses. You leave it on the counter overnight to find perfect crème fraîche in the morning. But anyway, what I wanted to say is that I have found myself lately averse to the sweetening of whipped cream. It doesn't need it and whatever you're going to put it on is usually sweet enough already. I will admit to adding equal amounts of vanilla extract and brandy (Grand Marnier recently, since I have some left from making truffles), about a teaspoon each per pint of cream. But in the end it's up to you. And this was supposed to be about the strawberries.