Maple Cardamom Marshmallows

Christmas may not be a holiday I officially celebrate, but folks, that won't stop me from playing Nat King Cole's holiday album, wearing my best snowflake sweaters (I have two), and baking a counter full of cookies. I'll leave the Nativity bit to others, but the kindness, the cheer, the mistletoe, the sweets - that stuff is open to anyone.

Which is why I'm participating in a Secret Santa Secret Cookie Swap, because who doesn't want to gift and be gifted on the holidays? The mystery recipient of my goodies better get some goat cheese ready, because I'm sending over a jar of my tomato jam, some homemade tangerine marmalade, cinnamon-pear maple syrup from Napa, and a little box of can-I-just-say-they're-adorable sablé cookies filled with homemade dulce de leche.

how it's done

But that's not all: I firmly believe that we all need to expand our holiday baking horizons beyond cookies. Why insist on mailing containers of very breakable cookies or often-teeth-cracking biscotti when you can pack a tin full of dense, chocolatey, travel-friendly fudge to your loved ones? Or better yet, surprise them - and save on shipping costs - by sending the lightest, fluffiest, still-sturdy marshmallows ever made.

Because I am moderately obsessed with anything maple-flavored (excluding extract and Aunt Jemima - the real deal, people), I swapped corn syrup and some of the sugar for a yes-I'm-serious whole cup of maple. Worth it, and you know what? Next time, I might even add half a cup more. I also added freshly ground cardamom, one of my favorite spices. The fresh ground bit makes a difference; if you have whole nutmeg but no whole cardamom, use nutmeg instead. In a pinch, I'm sure pre-ground cardamom would taste good, too.

cut, dust, consume

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More Marshmallow Ideas: Don't stop at maple and cardamom. Try adding some gingerbread spice and a tablespoon or so of molasses for gingerbread-flavored marshmallows; swap water for port or reduced cider for fruitier treats; or, of course, sprinkle some cocoa and grated chocolate during the final mixing for chocolate confections. Just remember that it's called the season of giving, not the season of stuffing your face with marshmallows. Save at least a few for your friends and family.

maple-cardamom marshmallows

Maple-Cardamom MarshmallowsInspired by Gourmet via Smitten Kitchen

A note about cardamom: you need to remove the brown seeds from their green pods before grinding. Some specialty stores sell the cardamom seeds without their pods, making this job a bit easier. If you have fresh cardamom in the pods, no biggie - just turn on some music and get rolling.

Makes about 96 marshmallows

About 1 cup powdered sugar 3 1/2 envelopes (2 tablespoons plus 2 1/2 teaspoons) unflavored gelatin 1 cup cold water, divided 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar 1 cup maple syrup 1/4 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon freshly ground cardamom (or substitute freshly ground nutmeg) 2 large egg whites 1 tablespoon vanilla

Butter the bottom and sides of a 13x9-inch baking pan (metal and pyrex both work) and dust bottom and sides with powdered sugar.

In bowl of a stand mixer or a large bowl, sprinkle gelatin over 1/2 cup cold water, and let stand to soften.

In a 3-quart heavy saucepan, cook sugar, maple syrup, the second 1/2 cup of cold water, salt, and cardamom over low heat, stirring with a wooden spoon, until sugar is dissolved. Increase heat to medium and boil mixture, without stirring, until a candy or digital thermometer registers 240°F, 8-10 minutes. Remove pan from the heat and pour sugar mixture over gelatin mixture, stirring until gelatin is fully dissolved.

With stand mixer or a hand-held electric mixer, beat mixture on high speed until white, thick, and nearly tripled in volume, about six minutes if using stand mixer or about 10 minutes if using hand-held mixer. If it doesn't whip up as quickly, be patient - it'll get there eventually.

In separate medium bowl with a clean whisk/beater, beat egg whites until they just barely hold stiff peaks. Add vanilla. Beat egg white mixture into sugar mixture until just combined. Pour mixture into baking pan and use a stiff spatula to scrape as much of it as you can into the prepared pan. Sift 1/4 cup powdered sugar evenly over top. Chill marshmallow, uncovered, until firm, at least three hours, and up to one day. Alternatively, set them on the counter overnight and they'll firm up just fine.

Run a thin knife around edges of pan and invert pan onto a large cutting board dusted with a bit more powdered sugar. Lifting up one corner of inverted pan, use your fingers to loosen the marshmallow mass and ease onto the cutting board. Use a large knife to trim the edges of the marshmallow, and cut into roughly one-inch cubes. (An oiled pizza cutter works well here, too.) Sift most of the remaining powdered sugar back into your now-empty baking pan, and transfer the marshmallows back into the pan. Dust with the last bit of powdered sugar, then roll the marshmallows through it, on all six sides, before shaking off the excess and packing them away.

Do ahead: Marshmallows keep in an airtight container at cool room temperature for at least one week, possibly more - if you can keep them around that long.

Summer Berry Eton Mess

We're fresh off the plane from London and I have so much to tell you that I honestly cannot figure out where it all begins. Do I start high, with pictures and bits from our unbelievably delicious meal at Nopi? Do I tell you about the day I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner at Indian restaurants? There's so much to discuss. I already feel like we need more time.

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Let me first say this: I didn't expect to love London. For all the claims that it's better than New York - you know I love New York - I was sure my heart would stay with Manhattan, even after crossing the pond. London, I had been told, was rainy and cold. It was expensive. And more than a few friends warned me that the food wasn't worth much excitement.

But people, I loved London. Of course I loved the accents - so civilized! so grand! - and the dress - much more refined than our stateside attire, I'm afraid - but I really, really adored the food.

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British food used to mean fish'n'chips and beer. For the record, we ate plenty of those. But we also found our way to the mecca that is Borough Market, where hipster-clad folks pull fantastic espresso, sell homemade charcuterie, and serve up the best plate of raclette I've ever seen.

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I expected a rather staid attitude toward food in London, but I encountered quite the opposite. In fact, roaming through Marylebone on the weekend, I passed by a folding table on which a farmer from Kent and his son had set up a pop-up shop selling what were, simply put, the best strawberries and the best cream I've ever eaten.

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And then, of course, there were the more expected pleasures. In planning our trip across the pond, I focused on two food groups. One was Indian food. Everyone says London has the best, and I planned to put that claim to the test. I made sure that plenty of dosas, curries, and chaat were on the week's agenda.

If I'm being completely honest, the curry houses I unearthed - via a quite comprehensive online search and a lot of asking - were good, but not the best. We had some really good samosa, great bhel puri, and memorable aloo gobi. But the baingan bartha, saag paneer, and dosa left something to be desired. If folks have better recommendations -- because yes, there will be a next time -- please do leave a comment below.

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So what was the other major food group? That would be Ottolenghi. Yes, the Ottolenghi food group. Not familiar with that one? A quick search on this site reveals nearly 10 recipes from his collection of wonderful cookbooks, and I'm sure there are more lurking around. Between Plenty, Jerusalem, and the original Ottolenghi, I've cooked dozens of his recipes, and I'm a more skilled and creative cook as a result. So the chance to try some of his five locations across London wasn't something I could pass up. We went to two of his restaurants, and quite frankly, we were blown away. Ottolenghi is famous for his salads, which sit high and mighty on a long table, ready to dish up at lunch or dinner. They are as glorious as the ones in his books, and eating them prepared by an expert is a truly memorable experience. And as for Nopi, his newest location and more of a fancy, sit-down situation, we spent most of the meal with our mouths agape at the exquisite surroundings, the incredible continuity of the room and each little detail contained within. The food was also amazing. You have to go.

One of the most memorable bits I ate at Nopi was dessert. Can we briefly establish that picking a best was very hard? The asparagus and samphire salad was unbelievable and in just a few days back at home, I've already tried to replicate it twice. But the dessert was a pitch-perfect Eton mess, and I've been dreaming about it ever since. And now, you can make it at home.

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Eton mess is a traditional British dessert, and everything in it is something you probably love: strawberries, meringue, and clouds of whipped cream. For Eton mess, these three wonderful things are piled unceremoniously into a large glass, where they mix and mingle into a dessert far greater than the sum of its parts. Tuck in with a spoon and get a bit of each, further blurring the lines between components with each spoonful until by the end, you've got a vaguely pink mash of sweet, crunchy, creamy goodness. It's perfect, unfussy food for summer.

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At Nopi the night we were there, I ordered the rhubarb Eton mess, which had bits of silky cooked rhubarb and other bits that were macerated, but nearly raw. I loved that combination of soft and crunchy. Traditional Eton mess is made with strawberries, which are mostly over for the year. I still had one small box of strawberries left, so I added them to a pile of raspberries, and the combination was perfect. If you have rhubarb, I offer instructions below for using it. Otherwise, I bet cherries would be lovely. Any summer berry will work well here.

Happy July, folks. Stay cool.

Summer Berry Eton MessAdapted from recipes by April Bloomfield, yet another Brit worth celebrating Serves 4

I spent an afternoon making cheese with Cathy last month, and she convinced me that I made a mistake not buying Bloomfield's new book, A Girl and Her Pig. When I borrowed it from the library, it seemed like too many of the recipes contained pork, which I don't use in my kitchen. (The title may have suggested as much, too.) In any event, Cathy is right about most things and this was no exception. She lent me her copy, and I've been cooking from it ever since. (Cathy, it's coming back to you soon - promise!)

Bloomfield has a way with peculiar, particular instructions. For her Eton mess, she has you macerate strawberries in almost a dozen ingredients before adding them to the mix. I winnowed down her list for simplicity because it's summer in DC, not summer in London. It's too hot to fuss. The result, though, is no less splendid. This is a dessert that will evoke wide, teeth-baring grins from anyone who eats it. Sorry for the cliche, but it's a party in your mouth.

One more thing: if you don't want to make your own meringue, you'll lose that crispy-chewy thing, but you'll save a hell of a lot of time. No judgment here.

For the meringue: 3 egg whites, carefully (perfectly!) separated from their yolks 1/2 cup sugar zest of 1/2 a lemon

For the berries: 2 pints berries of any sort (I like a mixture of raspberries and strawberries) zest of 1/2 a lemon 2 tablespoons lemon juice 2 tablespoons sugar 2 grinds of the pepper mill

(If using rhubarb, mix a pound of rhubarb with 1/4 cup sugar and 2 tablespoons water and put into a baking dish. Bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes, until the rhubarb has softened but not lost its shape. Cool completely.)

For the mess: 1 cup heavy cream 1 teaspoon sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla or the seeds from 1 vanilla bean

Make the meringues:Preheat the oven to 225 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or silpat.

Beat the egg whites and sugar in a clean large stainless steel bowl or a stand mixer until the mixture holds very stiff, shiny peaks, 4 to 5 minutes. Gently fold in the lemon zest. 

Spoon the mixture into 6 equal mounds on the lined baking sheet. Bake the meringue until it’s dry and crunchy on the outside but still soft and chewy inside, about 1 1/2 hours. Let it cool, preferably in the oven turned off but also fine on the counter.

Macerate the berries: Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl, stir gently to combine, cover with plastic wrap, and let sit on the counter while the meringues cook, stirring every so often to encourage juices to seep out.

Assemble the mess: Whip the cream, vanilla, and sugar together until the cream holds semi-stiff peaks. Crumble the meringues into a large mixing bowl; you should have a combination of small crumbles, medium pieces, and large chunks. Add the whipped cream and stir gently just until the meringue pieces are coated. Add about three-quarters of the berries (or rhubarb) and their liquid and stir very gently just until the berries are well distributed but you still see streaks of red in the white cream.

Carefully scoop the mixture into bowls, scatter the remaining berries on top, and drizzle on the rest of the liquid. Serve straight away.

Caramelized Garlic Frittata

Over years of hosting friends for Saturday lunch, frittata has become a staple of my lunch table. It's easy to prepare; it makes use of whatever of-the-moment ingredients you have in the fridge or on the counter; best of all, if you're preparing it in the Italian style, it's served at room temperature.

Unlike Tortilla Española, which stacks up nice and high, thanks to a hefty load of sliced potatoes inside - frittata is supposed to be thin. I've made it with tomatoes and feta; with kale, spinach, or other greens; with squash blossoms and/or zucchini; or with whatever else I have on hand. We're talking eggs, seasoning, and vegetables. It's pretty hard to screw up.

But a few weeks back, my in-laws were in town, so I went in search of something to make the frittata extra special. That's when I stumbled (literally - I almost knocked the whole thing over while reaching absentmindedly for flour) across a bowl of caramelized garlic, syrupy and soft and deeply browned, which - of course, you already know this - were the perfect addition to my frittata.

Backing up: I'd caramelized garlic to make Yotam Ottolenghi's caramelized garlic quiche. (I'm sorry, I've been hitting you over the head with Ottolenghi recipes - are you sick of him yet? Are you sick of me obsessing about him yet? Don't be; buy his book and you'll see why I can't stop.) But then I got sidetracked with mini lentil galettes and beet salad with walnut sauce and a really good blueberry tart, and that garlic quiche? It never happened. Kismet, I tell you.

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Can I just spend a couple minutes telling you about this garlic? Because it is amazing. It's the kind of thing you make and then want to use in everything, on everything. Shmeared into hot sourdough bread, tucked around a block of feta and baked until sizzling, or - yes - sneaked into your mouth by the spoonful as you pretend to use it for an actual dish. It's fragrant with thyme, sweet from the sugar and balsamic vinegar. And it's as tender as if it had been braised. On paper, it sounds like the kind of special ingredient that makes everything better. In reality, it does just that.

caramelized garlic frittata ingredients

To echo the garlic's sweetness and give the frittata texture, I added some fresh corn. And because I really can't help myself, I added a few generous spoonfuls of fresh chevre. I wanted to add garlic scapes, but I couldn't get any, so I added a scallion instead. I may have also stirred in some basil. In retrospect, none of this was necessary. Corn, goat cheese, and garlic are all this frittata needs. The simpler, the better.

This frittata will take us right from summer into fall. When corn is gone, I'll make it with mushrooms. Or maybe I'll really make like an Italian and stick to eggs and that perfect, sweet garlic. Sounds like simple perfection to me.

Caramelized Garlic Frittata

1 head of garlic, separated and peeled 1 tablespoon olive oil 2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar 3/4 tablespoons sugar 2 teaspoons chopped thyme

8 eggs salt and pepper 5 ounces soft, creamy goat cheese Corn from 2 ears, uncooked zest of one lemon 1 tablespoon butter 1 tablespoon olive oil

Put the garlic cloves in a small pan and cover with half a cup of water. Bring to a simmer and blanch the garlic for 3 minutes, then drain well and dry the pan.

Return garlic cloves to the pan and add the olive oil.

Fry the garlic on high heat for 2 minutes, shaking the pan to fry each side of the cloves.  Add the balsamic vinegar and 1 cup of water and bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer gently for 10 minutes.

Raise the heat to medium. Add the sugar, thyme, and a pinch of salt and continue simmering for 10 minutes, or until most of the liquid has evaporated and the garlic is covered in a dark caramel syrup. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk the eggs with salt and pepper to taste until well combined. Fold in the lemon zest, corn, and bits of goat cheese.

Set a large saute pan over medium heat and add the butter and olive oil. When butter has fully melted, swirl the pan to coat the sides. Pour egg mixture into the pan, swirl to distribute evenly, and sprinkle the garlic cloves over the surface of the frittata. They should sink into the egg mixture almost immediately.

Transfer the pan to the oven and bake until frittata is set, about 8 minutes. Let cool for 10 minutes before trying to remove the frittata from the pan; the hotter it is, the more easily it sticks.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

Amaretti

As I've said many times on this site, my philosophy of Passover eating is to steer clear of matza meal and potato starch, and keep things as normal as possible. Meringues, mousses, fruit curd of any flavor: these are the ideal Passover desserts. But cookie cravings call, and can't be ignored, even on Passover. So I'm making good on my promise to share one more Passover cookie recipe before the holiday. Those chocolate cookies sort of can't be beat -- unless you use margarine in place of butter, which I hear can cause problems! -- but these amaretti are chewy, flavorful, and pretty addictive in their own rite. They've got the golden touch of Passover cookies, which is to say, they weren't designed with Passover in mind.

The recipe is very lightly adapted from Garrett McCord, who writes his own blog, Vanilla Garlic, and guest posts occasionally for Elise at Simply Recipes. They can be made chewy or crunchy just by fiddling with the baking time. They're redolent with almond flavor and some vanilla, too. They're highly scarfable, which on Passover isn't something to scoff at.

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If you're celebrating, happy holiday! If you're not, make these anyway: they really are quite tasty.

Amarettiadapted from Garrett McCord, via Elise Bauer

Note: I found this recipe really near-perfect in terms of flavor and consistency. The only ingredient changes I made were to reflect that fact that kosher for Passover almond flour and bakers' sugar are hard to find. If those aren't concerns, feel free to substitute 2 1/2 cups almond flour for the 3 1/4 cups whole almonds I call for. I also used a tablespoon instead of a teaspoon to measure out the cookies, and liked the texture of these slightly larger bites. The baking time increases slightly for tablespoon-sized cookies: I baked mine 25 minutes for very chewy, 30-35 minutes for crunchy. Oddly, my dough made about 30 tablespoon-sized cookies, which is the same yield in the original recipe.

3 1/4 cups almonds 1 1/4 cups of sugar 3 egg whites 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract 1/2 teaspoon of almond extract (if you can find it) Extra sugar for dusting

Preheat oven to 300 degrees and line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a food processor, grind the almonds until fine. Add sugar, and continue grinding another 30 seconds, until well blended and very fine. Add the vanilla and almond extract (if using) and pulse for a few seconds. Add the egg whites, one at a time, and continue to process until smooth.

Place tablespoons of the dough on the parchment paper and dust with sugar. For chewy cookies, bake for about 25 minutes, when tops are golden brown but cookies are still soft to the touch. For crunchy cookies, bake about 30-35 minutes. Note that cookies will still feel somewhat soft when coming out of the oven - even if you've baked them for the full 35 minutes -- but they will firm up within a day.

Cool completely before serving. Store in a cool, dry place. Makes about 30 cookies.