Butterscotch Pots de Crème, a Peace Offering

Let us see.  Where to begin?  

Much has happened since we last left off.  I have moved, suffered a terribly sad breakup, a gladiatorial chest-rattling ailment, and a two-hour midterm on microbes.

Instead of feeling incredibly weepy for myself, I come here today with an offering of pots de crème for the universe.  Essentially, this is pudding.  But pudding so good it has silenced rooms. 

I have yet to see it last longer than a minute or two in any human’s presence and have made the recipe a couple times—once with muscovado and later on with plain old brown sugar.  If you do not have the former do not be dissuaded.  In either case, it is well worth the pint of cream.

The result is more custardy than you might expect—heavy cream and egg yolks will do that.  It is not tooth-achingly sweet either, as some butterscotch desserts can be.  I also highly recommend leaving the cloud of whipped cream on top unsweetened.  It wonderfully balances the rich, toasty caramel that lies beneath.

The recipe conveniently makes four dinner guest-sized portions.  Except when you are only having two dinner guests.  Then you have a double ration for the cook.  Or perhaps you walk the ancillary portion down to your friends at the neighborhood wine shop? Who devour it in your presence.  And swear a little doing so.

The point is, no one who has seen the likes of these pots de crème has been able to resist them.  Nothing but praise.  Dishes scraped clean.  So tuck this recipe away for a day when you need a little extra oomph. 

Because all is fair in love, war, and pudding.

Butterscotch Pots de Crème

Adapted from Orangette and Gourmet

Ingredients:

• 2 cups (1 pint) heavy cream, divided
• 6 tbsp dark muscovado sugar or dark brown sugar
• ¼ tsp salt
• 2 tbsp demerara sugar
• 4 egg yolks
• 1 tsp vanilla extract

Instructions:

Set your oven to 300 degrees and make sure you have a rack positioned on the middle level.  In a small saucepan, combine 1½ cups of heavy cream with the muscovado (or brown sugar) and salt.  

Bring to barely a simmer on medium heat, stirring occasionally until the sugar is dissolved.  Remove from the heat.

In a medium saucepan, combine 6 tbsp of water with the demerara sugar over medium heat, swirling the pan occasionally, until the sugar gets browned and bubbly (it helps if you don’t use a dark-colored pan, so you can easily check the hue).  You’ll want it almost chestnut in color (this should take about 5 minutes).

Remove the browned sugar liquid from the heat and slowly add in the cream mixture, whisking to combine. In a large bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and vanilla and then add the hot cream mixture in a slow, thin stream, continuously whisking until combined. 

Set a fine-mesh sieve over a glass measuring cup and pour the custard through (you’ll need a 1-quart size or you’ll have to pour it in batches).  Skim off any foam with a spoon.

Select a baking dish that is large enough to hold four ramekins (or other oven-proof containers) without touching.  Fold a dishtowel to line the bottom of the dish.  Place your ramekins in the pan and divide your mixture among them.  Place a piece of aluminum foil over the top of each to help prevent a skin from forming.

Slide the baking dish into the oven and pour hot tap water into the dish until it is halfway up the sides of the ramekins.  Bake until the custard is set around the edges but still slightly jiggles in the middle when shaken (about 40 minutes).

Carefully remove the ramekins (they will be hot) and let cool on a wire rack (discard the foil).  The custard will continue to set as it cools.  Meanwhile, whip the remaining ½ cup of heavy cream until soft peaks form (you can do this by hand or with a stand mixer).  Refrigerate both the cooled pudding and the whipped cream for a few hours.

Divide the whipped cream among the puddings and serve.

Makes 4

Notes:

1. These are best the day they are made.
2. If you do not have demerara, you might try using the Sugar In The Raw packets you see at coffee shops.  This is turbinado sugar and isn’t as deeply molasses-flavored but may be a good last-ditch effort.  
    

A Woman Named Vera and her Manicotti

I thought long and hard about how I might introduce this recipe. Family traditions come dangerously close to violating one of my two rules of the Internet.  

One. Before posting anything, first ask yourself: am I okay with mom seeing this?  And two.  Does anyone give a damn?

The latter is what we are concerned with today, as manicotti is fairly unobjectionable to most.
In the interest of preemptively stifling a few yawns, I will skip the details in which this dish shows up on our yearly holiday buffet and, instead, focus on the reason it does.  Mainly, because grandma makes it.  And because it is very, very good.

Our family recipe originates from my great grandmother—and from Naples before that—though it has had a few twists and turns along the way.  I can feel you nodding off, so here is what you should know.

You will need four eggs, equal parts flour and milk, and patience.  Grandma claims success with her burner set at 4.  She will advise you of this, then add to figure out what works best for you.

You would be wise to heed this advice.  Because an airy, crepe-like pasta is what you are after.  Then you will fill it with lightly seasoned ricotta and sauce it with a few delicate spoonfuls of your finest tomato garnish. It might not make for the most glamorous of Internet posts or pictures. Few things that are ‘mother approved’ ever do. 

No matter.  Manicotti with a salacious story is not what we are after here.  We are after a woman named Vera and her manicotti.

Vera’s Manicotti

Ingredients:

for the manicotti

• 4 eggs
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup whole milk
• canola oil, for the pan

for the ricotta filling

• 1 pound ricotta
• 1 egg
• 1 to 2 tbsp finely chopped herbs, like parsley and basil
• 1 tbsp grated pecorino cheese
• ½ tsp sugar
• few grinds of a pepper mill
• pinch of salt

for the top

• a few cups of your favorite sauce, this recipe will likely be a winner if you need direction
• plus a dusting of grated parmesan or pecorino

Instructions:

Prepare some wax or parchment paper torn into squares to sandwich the cooked crepes between. (The recipe makes about 16 crepes, but you won’t need a new square for every single one.)

Set the oven to 350 degrees. 

In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs, flour, and milk together until no longer lumpy.  Heat a 6-inch skillet on medium heat.  Grease with a little oil; you’ll want a fine sheen, so pour out any oil that pools in the pan. 

Spoon about ¼ cup of batter into the center of the heated skillet and then gently, but quickly, swirl the pan so that the batter spreads into a thin circle.  It helps to pick up the skillet to do this; it also helps to correct the heat if it gets too hot.  

The crepe should cook in about a minute, maybe a little less.  You’ll know it’s done when its center is firm to the touch.  (You won’t have to flip it.) It may take a few crepes to get your technique down.

Repeat until the remaining batter is used.  You may need to adjust the heat if they start browning.  You may need to add a little more oil every few crepes.

To make the ricotta filling, combine all ingredients; set aside. 

To assemble the manicotti, ladle a little sauce into two casserole dishes (I used a 12 x 6 and a 12 x 9), just enough to cover the bottoms.  Spoon between 1 to 2 tbsp of the ricotta filling into the center of each crepe and then roll it up, setting each one seam side down in a line, side by side.  

Fill each pan with only one layer of crepes.

Cover the top lightly with sauce and dust with cheese.  Bake for about 20 to 25 minutes uncovered, or until the sauce is bubbling and the manicotti is heated through.

Makes 16 manicotti

Notes:

1. You will want to use a simple tomato sauce.  Briefly cooking down a 28-ounce can of tomatoes with some onion, garlic, olive oil, and chili flakes will work.  (It should not take longer than about 20 minutes.) Typically, I make a double batch to have some leftover.

Cucumber Cream Cheese Cilantro Sandwiches, for Now

I am in a bit of a sinkhole at the moment.  

I am researching the role of pasta in post-unification Italy for my final paper this semester.  I am also recovering from making the world’s worst pudding on Friday night.  And if I am truly being honest, I did not fair much better attempting a chocolate poppy seed krantz cake on Saturday.  Though, I did learn if your dough only slightly rises you can turn krantz cake into "rugelach." 

What I really want to do is sit down with the Sunday Times, have a mangled krantz-rugelach with a cup of coffee, and stop time.  But a paper on pasta in Futurist-Fascist Italy is not going to write itself.

Which is why I am bringing you cucumbers in November. 

This is one of my all-time favorite sandwiches.  They are perfect for summer, which is when I first made them. (Dave and I smuggled them onto the Downeaster to Portland a few months ago.)  They are also quick, and so they fit in any old time.

The ingredients hardly require a garden in our age of the supermarket.  It is also worth mentioning if you make any of Jeni’s ice creams—and are bagel-deprived—you’ll need a use for the leftover cream cheese.  (Here is one of my favorite recipes using her lovely base.)

So allow me to introduce the cream cheese cucumber sandwich, of which I am ideological fan.  In reality those two need some spunk to get me excited about consuming them in tandem.  The chili garlic sauce, cilantro, and capers come in to make the magic happen.  You will also want a really good sourdough or nutty multigrain bread because the outsides are as important as the insides when crafting a sandwich.

Which we have the luxury of securing.  Because—thankfully—this is not fascist Italy.  This is post-ice cream New England, with sandwiches.

Now back to the twentieth century.

Cucumber Cream Cheese Sandwiches with Chili and Cilantro

Ingredients:

• 4 ounces cream cheese
• 2 tbsp capers, roughly chopped
• 10 to 12 cilantro sprigs, stems and leaves finely chopped
• 1 scallion, finely chopped
• black pepper and salt to taste
• about 1½ tbsp chili garlic sauce, divided
• 1 cucumber, sliced
• slices of bread (I recommend sourdough)

Instructions:

Combine the cream cheese, capers, cilantro, and scallion; taste and adjust seasoning.  Spread a little of the mixture on each piece of sourdough (about a tablespoon).  

Place a few slices of cucumber on one slice of bread and spread about a tsp of chili sauce on the other.  Combine sides.  

Slice and eat.

Makes 3 to 4 sandwiches

Notes:

1. Instructions are based on one sandwich.  The number of sandwiches will depend on how thick you spread it.