Cook the Books: Good Fish (Part 2)

A cooking challenge organized by Meg of Grow and Resist and Briggs of Oh Briggsy in which we explore a featured cookbook each month. The selection for March is Becky Selengut’s Good Fish, Sustainable Seafood Recipes from the Pacific Coast.  This is my second post on the topic. The first one is here.

The recipes in Good Fish by Becky Selengut are exceptional. This book’s going to be in the center of my shelf for a long time. I’m already looking forward to summer.

After my first two experiments using cod, I moved on to salmon. Salmon is even more problematic than cod since there’s so much available from environmentally questionable sources, and there are four main types to choose from, sockeye and coho being the two most often identified. The farmed varieties are pretty suspicious, especially when they’re labeled “color enhanced.” Dyed orange? Really?

Becky’s strong recommendation (she repeated it three times) is wild salmon from Alaska. We do get Alaskan salmon here on the East Coast. There’s a distributor – Otolith – in nearby Philadelphia, which has a relationship with fishermen in Alaska who supply frozen salmon (and black cod) in season. Otolith will ship fish overnight to your house in addition to selling it at a few Philadelphia-area markets. It’s a well-regarded source that I intend to investigate. In the meanwhile, the better fish purveyors around here sell Alaskan salmon, though they won’t stock black cod because of the high price and low demand. For Cook the Books, I made Becky’s excellent Jerk-spiced Salmon with Coconut Pot Liquor and Sweet Potato Fries (p. 109). The fish and fries were served atop kale and beans flavored with coconut milk.

The combination of greens and beans is part of our weekly repertoire at this time of year, as are sweet potatoes, so this was a good test of the book. I loved the spice mix, a combination of cinnamon, allspice, cumin, red pepper and salt, which was sprinkled on the salmon and the sweet potatoes. I would have characterized the seasoning as the Middle Eastern “baharat,” which boasts the same ingredients and, like Becky’s mixture, isn’t as peppery as Caribbean jerk. I also loved the fact that the three components of the meal were perfectly timed to come together at once. I loved the photo demonstration of flaking fish to test for doneness. However, I thought there was something odd about the proportions, maybe a problem with the recipe writing. To make it work, I doubled the kale. Since the kale was sautéed, it didn’t produce “pot liquor,” which was dependent entirely on the coconut milk. I halved the coconut milk and thought that the adjusted proportions made the dish work. My beans were Rancho Gordo scarlet runner beans. Since Becky used canned beans, I adjusted the salt accordingly.  I will definitely make this again and will use the seasoning combination in other dishes.

Since I was intrigued with Becky’s twists on the familiar, I made Olive-oil-poached Albacore Steaks with Caper Blood Orange Sauce (page 167).  We are able to get excellent albacore tuna from nearby waters, and it has become a favorite in our household. Milder and leaner (therefore drier) than bluefin tuna, it benefits from flavorful companion ingredients like peppers, onions and tomatoes with capers, or here, a spunky orange, caper and green olive salsa. Becky’s tuna recipe was one of the first I selected to try, in part because blood oranges are in season, whereas I’ll have to wait a few months for the accompaniment to the other albacore recipes. They all sound good.

I’ve previously cooked tuna in olive oil to preserve it, using a long slow method recommended by Rick Moonen and Roy Finamore in Fish without a Doubt, a good how-to compendium of ideas for buying seafood responsibly and cooking it well. Becky’s version uses high temperature oil and a short cooking time. It was successful in the sense that the tuna wasn’t overcooked, but I actually prefer a really hot oven or pan to get it to a similar result. I guess the point was that the outside wasn’t browned, although it became seared by the hot oil. The sauce was good, but too acidic, so I added a teaspoon of honey to smooth it out. Also, unlike the perfect timing of the steps in the salmon recipe, this one needed to be executed in reverse order or the fish could become overcooked after removing it from the heat unless it’s sliced immediately.

One thing I like about this book is that Becky explores a bunch of techniques, all of which are intended to cook fish simply and well, and then embellishes the individual preparations with amazing accompaniments with techniques of their own. I like that. It will keep me cooking from this book.

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All-American Orange Pound Cake — Gluten-Free

It’s your birthday and I made you a cake. This would be a cinch in most families, but we live in the land of the gluten-free or dairy-free, and sometimes both. Not by choice so there’s no room for mistakes. I am developing a pretty good repertoire of cakes, and even some bread, which use almond meal as well as alternative flours, from quinoa to brown rice. I tend to like recipes that use the “other” flours for what they are and not simply as a substitute for white wheat. However, I’ve been considering how to make a gluten-free citrus pound cake, one that will support a pile of strawberries when they return to season in a couple of months.

One of my long-time favorites is Dorie Greenspan’s yogurt cake but I recently spied an orange loaf cake on the Lottie and Doof blog, adapted from the new baking book, Piece of Cake, Home Baking Made Simple, by David Muniz and David Lesniak. A pair of Americans, the Davids moved to London to establish a bakery specializing in American cookies and cakes.  Their smart-aleck humor results in “Snickers” brownies and “Nut Job” cookies, blending classic American baked goods with American slang in both recipe and language.  Since one of the Davids is from Mississippi, I figured he’d make a good pound cake. Besides, March 4 is national pound cake day in the U.S. (Who knew?) 

This was the perfect opportunity to use the gluten-free flour mix called Cup 4 Cup, which was developed by Thomas Keller of French Laundry fame. I haven’t been a big fan of pre-mixed GF flour mixes until now. Given the ingredients of this particular cake, I thought it might work. There’s something magical that sour cream, buttermilk and yogurt do to batter when combined with baking soda. Orange peel, like cooked pumpkin, has a similar effect.This cake was amazing. It rose a mile high and had great crumb. I baked it in two medium loaf pans and halved the glaze since I thought it would benefit from a little crunch on top but didn’t need more sugar.  So when the strawberries arrive, I’m going to make two versions, GF and conventional, just for fun.  And because I am as nerdy about food experiments as America’s Test Kitchen.

Side note: you can use larger or smaller pans and adjust the baking time as I indicate in the recipe.

Orange Pound Cake, adapted from Muniz and Lesniak, Piece of Cake

2¼ c all-purpose flour or “Cup 4 Cup” gluten-free flour

2¼ tsp aluminum-free baking powder

¾ tsp baking soda

1 tsp Kosher salt (or less if using table salt)

¾ c sour cream

¼ c freshly squeezed orange juice (plus 1 tbsp more for glaze)

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 tbsp orange liqueur such as Grand Marnier or Cointreau, optional

1 c granulated sugar

3 tbsp orange zest (from about 3 oranges)

1½ sticks (3/4 c) softened unsalted butter

3 large eggs at room temperature (soak in warm water 5 minutes if not set out earlier)

Glaze:

¾ c sifted confectioners’ sugar

1 tbsp freshly squeezed orange juice

Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter two medium loaf pans (approximately 7 x 4 x 2½ inches), and line with parchment paper. (I lined them in both directions, leaving the paper long enough on the sides to hoist the cakes from the pans.)

Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt and set aside.

Thoroughly mix together the sour cream, orange juice, vanilla, and orange liqueur if using, and set aside.

Place the sugar and orange zest in the bowl of an electric stand mixer with the paddle attachment, or in a medium-large bowl if you are using an electric hand mixer, and beat the sugar-orange mixture on low speed until well combined.  Drop in the butter, about 2 tbsp at a time, until well combined. Increase the mixer speed to medium-high and cream the mixture until it is light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. (Do not shorten this step or your cake could be a little flat and dense.)  On low speed, add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition.

Finish preparing the batter by hand by alternately folding in the flour mixture and the sour cream mixture, beginning and ending with the flour. (Fold in 1/3 of flour, then ½ of sour cream and repeat, ending with flour.)

Spread in prepared pans, smoothing the top. The mixture made with gluten-free flour may seem quite thick.

Bake the loaves for about 40 minutes until the tops are brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. (If using a 9 x 5 loaf pan, the cooking time will be 45-60 minutes. If using mini loaf pans, probably 25 minutes.)

Let the cake cool for 10 minutes before removing it to a rack to finish cooling.

While the cake is cooling, make the glaze by combining the confectioners’ sugar and orange juice in a small pan. Bring it to a boil, stirring, lower the heat and simmer it for 2 minutes. Brush or pour the glaze over the cakes and cool them completely before serving.

Makes 2 medium loaf cakes (or 1 large one or 8 minis).

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Three-Citrus Marmalade

My fascination with preserving is as much about process as about product. The combination of three citrus fruits – grapefruit, oranges and lemons – in one marmalade poses an immediate dilemma: how to prepare each fruit so that the ensemble has a textural consistency while allowing distinction among the flavors.  I made a three-citrus marmalade with candied ginger at Christmas. It was dense, almost crunchy, even though much of the fruit peel was separately processed as candy. For this one, I was aiming for big chunks of fruit suspended in abundant “jelly.” 

Rachel Saunders’ Blue Chair Jam Cookbook provided the solution. This is a large book, beautifully presented, with a studied methodology (involving, among other techniques, 5 spoons for measuring gel!) and a wonderful sense of terroir in her choice of California fruits. How lucky is she that she can specify the variety of lemon, when here on the East Coast, we have two choices: the supermarket Eureka (who knew the name?) or Meyer lemon, another fruit altogether?  She calls this “English Three-Fruit Marmalade” and says, “The secret to this marmalade is to prepare each fruit separately and to cut it into extremely thick pieces.” She claims that this produces both a clean flavor and a fun marmalade to eat. All true. Her kicker is the addition of a little gin to get the flavors acquainted. This was a pretty good trick I thought.  How English.

I’m a small-batch canner in general, and typically cut Saunders’ recipes in half, or even thirds. I tried cutting this one in half but the weight of my available fruit made it a little over. Even so, I ended up with eight 8-ounce jars and then some, a huge batch in my book.

I liked the methodology of poaching the fruits individually in changes of cold water, simmering them to tenderness, and letting them sit overnight to develop pectin and depth before combining them with sugar for the final boil. This was time-consuming but was made complicated by Saunders’ instructions. She segregated her description the process fruit by fruit, even though they logically could overlap. I read and re-read the instructions until I was confused. I therefore re-wrote the opening sequence in my version of her recipe below. Call me “Miss En Place” if you want, but I like to get everything organized before launching into a recipe. Honestly, as intrepid as I am, I might not have attempted this had I not broken down the steps in advance.

Three-Citrus Marmalade adapted from Rachel Saunders, Blue Chair Jam

1 red grapefruit (1-1¼ lb), preferably unwaxed and organic

2 oranges (3/4-1lb), preferably unwaxed and organic

3 lemons (3/4 –1lb), preferably unwaxed and organic

Water

About 3–3.5 lb cane sugar

¼ c plus 1 tsp gin

The marmalade is made over a two-day period to allow the poached fruit to mellow and develop pectin before cooking it with sugar to create the marmalade. The three fruits are poached separately since they soften at different paces.

Day One. Set out three medium saucepans, one for each type of fruit. Prepare the fruit. If your fruit is waxed, rinse and scrub the skins with a stiff brush under warm water. Cut the grapefruit and oranges in half crosswise and juice them, setting aside the juice in the refrigerator.  Save the seeds and add them, along with the lemon seeds, to a small muslin pouch or wrap them in cheesecloth and tie with a string.

Cut the grapefruit halves in two vertical pieces, place them in one of the saucepans and cover with 1 inch of cold water or enough to make the grapefruit pieces float.

Quarter the orange halves vertically and slice the segments horizontally into thick strips, about ¼ inch wide. Place them in a saucepan and cover with 1 inch of cold water.

Quarter the lemons vertically and slice them horizontally into pieces that are just under ¼ inch thick. Place them in a saucepan and cover with 1 inch of cold water. Combine the seeds with the orange and grapefruit seeds and add the pouch to the lemons.

The next step is to parboil the fruit. Grapefruit is parboiled for 5 minutes in the original water and a second time in a change of water before being simmered in a third change of water for 1-2 hours until tender. Oranges are parboiled in one 5-minute session before the long simmer, and lemons go straight to the simmering process. Each one is then covered and set aside overnight.

For the grapefruit: Bring the pan of grapefruit and water to a boil over high heat, then lower the heat to keep the liquid at a lively simmer for 5 minutes. Drain the water, replenish it and cook again in the same manner for 5 minutes. Drain the water, cover the grapefruit pieces with water by about an inch, and cook at a lively simmer for 1-2 hours, until the peel is tender. (My grapefruit took a little over an hour.) Add more water along the way if necessary to keep the grapefruit pieces afloat.  When the grapefruit is tender, cover the pan and let it sit overnight.

For the oranges: Bring the pan of oranges and water to a boil over high heat, lower the heat to keep the liquid at a lively simmer for 5 minutes. Drain the water, cover the orange pieces with water by about an inch, and cook at a lively simmer for 1-2 hours, until the peel is tender. (My oranges took about an hour and a half.) Cover the pan and let it sit overnight.

For the lemons: Bring the lemons and water to a boil. Lower the heat to maintain a lively simmer for 30-40 minutes or until tender. Cover the pan and let it sit overnight.

Day Two. If you are canning the marmalade, prepare the jars. Set a saucer in the freezer to chill. I used 8-ounce jars because of the heft of the fruit slices.

Remove the grapefruit from its liquid and scrape the flesh and pith into the liquid. Cut each grapefruit quarter into thirds lengthwise and them slice cross-wise into ¼-inch strips.

Strain the grapefruit liquid into a very large (2-quart) measuring cup and add the grapefruit pieces, the orange and lemon pieces and their liquid, the reserved grapefruit and orange juice and ¼ c gin. Note the volume and pour the contents into a large wide saucepan or preserving pan.

Measure sugar equal to ½ to ¾ of the volume of fruit and liquid and add it to the pan, stirring to combine. (I used ½ the volume of sugar to fruit and liquid, about 4 c or 3½ lbs sugar.)

Bring the mixture to a boil and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until it is gelled (determined by dropping a little on the frozen saucer and testing it with our finger to see if it wrinkles). Start testing for gel around the 25-minute mark. My marmalade took about 40 minutes to gel, partly because I had too much grapefruit liquid and used the lower proportion of sugar.

When gelled, remove from the heat, remove the bag of seeds, and let sit until the foam subsides. Stir in 1 tsp of gin and ladle into hot canning jars.

If canning via the water bath method, process 8- or 12-ounce jars for 15 minutes after the water returns to a boil. Turn off the heat, remove the lid and let sit for 5 minutes before removing the jars to a counter to cool undisturbed.

Makes 8+ eight-ounce jars.

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Chicken Braised with Carrots and Oranges

January, an orange fetish. The color orange in carrots and sweet potatoes. The citrus fruit orange in just about everything. Maybe it’s a vitamin deficiency or just the hankerings of a season. Having been basically flat on my back for over a week with a version of the dreaded flu, I woke up to the urgency of putting dinner on the table. Rallying, what I had on hand were some boneless chicken thighs and a few orange-colored ingredients.  

So I made a quick chicken braise with sliced onions, carrots, red-orange peppers, slivered orange peel, sliced oranges and rosemary. This whole dish goes together in under 30 minutes and tastes and looks fresh and healthy.

Chicken Braised with Carrots and Oranges

1 lb boneless and skinless chicken thighs

1-2 tbsp flour

Salt and pepper

1 tbsp vegetable oil

2 tbsp diced prosciutto, optional

1 small or half a medium onion, cut longwise and sliced crosswise

1 clove garlic, chopped

½ small red or orange bell pepper, sliced

1 carrot, sliced

½ c white wine

½ c chicken stock

Flesh from 1/2 small orange, without the membrane

1 tbsp slivered orange peel (without the white pith)

1 tbsp rosemary leaves

Trim any fat from the chicken thighs. Add salt and pepper to the flour and dredge the chicken in it, shaking off any excess. Warm the oil in a braising pan or sauté pan with a lid, large enough to hold the chicken in one layer. Sauté the chicken over medium-high heat until brown on both sides and remove it to a platter, covering it to keep it warm.

If using prosciutto, sauté it lightly to brown on all sides and remove to the platter with the chicken.

Add the onion to the pan and sauté slowly over medium heat until it starts to soften. Add the garlic and stir. Add the pepper and carrot and sauté for a minute or two.

Add the white wine, turn up the heat and let the wine reduce a bit. Add the chicken stock, the chicken, the orange flesh and peel and the rosemary. Nestle the chicken among the vegetables so that it is at least partially covered. Bring the mixture to a simmer, lower the heat and cover the pan. Cook slowly until the chicken is done, about 15-20 minutes.

Serve over rice or quinoa.

Serves 4.

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Last Minute Holiday Gifts: Ginger Citrus Marmalade, Candied Ginger and Candied Citrus Peel

A trifecta of holiday confections and then some. Nothing goes to waste and you end up with three gifts in no time plus a couple of jars of amazingly flavored syrup.  First there’s candied ginger, half of which goes into the jam and the other half is rolled in sugar and packaged as candy, or saved to incorporate into something else. Second is a delicious marmalade that includes the candied ginger and a combination of grapefruit, orange and lemon. The lemon is sliced thin, peel and all, but only the flesh of the orange and grapefruit is used. Instead of tossing the rind into the compost, I candied it. The resulting syrups used in the candying process are delicious and should be saved to add to seltzer or cocktails or iced tea. 

Inspiration for the marmalade comes from Christine Ferber, French jam-maker extraordinaire. The rest is my waste-not-want-not approach to cooking.  While I do toss citrus rinds into the compost when using only the flesh or the juice, I more typically peel them into long strips and hang them to dry, curling in lazy spirals, or I grate them.  Candying is another option of course but except at holiday time, my lack of sweet tooth will send me in any other direction. 

Candying ginger and peels and small fruits like kumquats is easy.  Ginger is simply peeled and sliced. Fruits are scrubbed to remove any wax and dried (important) before removing the peels, any loose pith is removed and the peel sliced.  The ginger or fruits are typically covered with cold water, brought to a simmer and cooked for a few minutes to tenderize them. The water is discarded and the process is repeated one or two more times. Once the fruit is tender, it is candied in simple syrup, that is, a combination of equal parts sugar and water. There are two ways to do this. One is to make the simple syrup in advance and poach the fruit in it. The other is to add all of the ingredients at once: the ginger or peel, the sugar and the water. I find the latter easier of course but less satisfactory since the syrup tends to crystallize more readily. Once you add crystallized syrup to liquid, it dissolves, but it’s not pretty as is.  You can choose to add a tablespoon or so of corn syrup to coax the syrup to remain liquid but why? 

You can store the peel in liquid or remove it from the hot syrup and let it drain and nearly dry before rolling it in sugar. I used a combination of granulated cane sugar and coarse Demerara or turbinado sugar. These sweet treats can also be dipped in chocolate.

Ginger Citrus Marmalade adapted from Christine Ferber, Mes Confitures

2 oranges (about 1 lb), preferably organic

1 grapefruit (about 1 lb), preferably organic

1 lemon, preferably organic

1¾ c sugar

5 oz candied ginger, diced small  (see recipe below)

If the fruit has been waxed, scrub it gently under warm water, dry it and set it aside for a couple hours.

If using the orange and grapefruit rind for another purpose, slice the oranges and grapefruit pole to pole through the rind but not far into the flesh. Remove the rind carefully and set aside. Cut the orange into quarters and remove the seeds, reserving them if plentiful. Slice the quarters just under ¼ inch thick. Repeat with the grapefruit cutting it into sixths before slicing. Quarter the lemon pole to pole and slice it thinly crosswise, removing the seeds as you go. If you have quite a few seeds, place them in a little muslin bag and add them to the preserving pan, since they help create pectin for a good gel set.

Combine the citrus fruits, sugar and diced ginger (and bag of seeds if using) in wide-bottomed saucepan and bring them to a simmer. Pour the mixture into a bowl and let it cool, covered with a piece of crumpled parchment paper. Refrigerate overnight.

If you’re canning the marmalade, prepare the jars and keep them warm.

Place a saucer in the freezer for testing the gel.

Pour the citrus mixture into a wide saucepan and bring it to a boil, stirring. Skim and continue cooking on high heat until it gels, 5-10 minutes. Test the gel by placing a drop of the liquid on the frozen saucer. If it wrinkles to the touch, the gel is set.

Put the marmalade in jars and seal.

If canning them, process them for 10 minutes after the water has returned to a boil. Turn off the heat, remove the lid and let them sit for 5 minutes before removing to a counter to cool undisturbed.

Makes 5-6 four-ounce jars.

Candied Ginger adapted from David Lebovitz

12 oz ginger root (preferably with large uniform stalks)

Water

3 c sugar

3 c water

Optional: granulated sugar for coating the slices

Trim the ginger root to cylindrical pieces, saving the small knobs and bits for another purpose. Peel the root and slice it slightly on the diagonal into thin slices (mine were about 1/16 inch. Place in a saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a simmer and cook for about 5 minutes to tenderize. Drain and discard the water. Cover the ginger with cold water and repeat the process. Drain the ginger.

Place 3 cups each of water and sugar in a saucepan along with the ginger and bring the mixture to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Cook until it is as thick as honey or measures 225 degrees on a candy thermometer, 15-20 minutes or so.

If you’re using the ginger for marmalade or baking, let it cool in the syrup before using. It can be stored in the syrup, refrigerated, for months. The syrup will probably crystallize.

If you plan on sugaring the ginger for candy, drain it from the syrup while hot. Let it cool completely and become slightly dry but still sticky to the touch. Roll in sugar, coating it completely and let dry on a rack overnight. Store in a tightly covered container.

Candied Citrus Peel

Peel from 2 grapefruits and 2 oranges

Water

3 c sugar

3 c water

Optional: granulated sugar for coating the slices

To remove the peel gracefully from the fruit, slice through the peel pole to pole in quarters or sixths and gently remove each piece. With a spoon, scrape the loose pith from the back, and slice the peel vertically into ¼-inch strips.

Place the peel in a large saucepan and cover it with cold water. Bring to a simmer and cook for 7-8 minutes. Drain the water and repeat the process.

Meanwhile, bring 3 cups each of water and sugar to a boil in a large saucepan, stirrin to dissolve the sugar. Continue to cook until the temperature reads 225 on a candy thermometer (or until the mixture is as thick as honey).

Add the citrus peel and cook for 5 minutes.

If you’re using the peel for baking, let it cool in the syrup before using. It can be stored in the syrup, refrigerated, for months. The syrup will probably crystallize.

If you plan on sugaring the citrus peel for candy, drain it from the syrup while hot. Let it cool completely and become slightly dry but still sticky to the touch, several hours. Roll in sugar, coating it completely and let dry on a rack overnight. Store in a tightly covered container.

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Sea Scallops with Orange “Aigre-doux” and Chives

I have a new favorite cookbook. Ha. I know I could say that every week. This new book of mine is titled The Preservation Kitchen, written by Chicago chef Paul Virant. Among his many accomplishments is a brush with Christine Ferber, the famed French doyenne of the jam kingdom (and maybe the entire preserving kingdom) and a legend who creates her own terroir. One of the sections of the book covers so-called “aigre-doux,” which means sour and sweet in French, or as we would reverse it, sweet and sour. (Says something about our priorities or bad habits?)  Aigre-doux is a complex sauce. It has the power to transform food experience because of its complexity and its acidic character.  Wine mellows vinegar and sugar, and flavors flow from vegetables and fruits as well as herbs and spices. Ferber has written a book about aigre-doux and terrines, not translated from the French. I haven’t read it, so I am relying on Virant.

I’ve made sweet and sour sauces before, and love my kick-ass caponata agridolce (the Italian version of sweet and sour eggplant and other veggies). But it never dawned on me to can an aigre-doux in a water bath, the chief way I preserve vegetables and fruits in pickles and jams. Wow. Now what?  Brave new world.  There are so many great ideas in this book, I hardly knew where to start.

Since we’re in one of those transition periods between growing seasons, I find that I’m combining the citrus of winter with the first vegetables of spring, the over-wintered storage vegetables with young spring greens. I therefore was inspired to make three citrus-based aigre-doux from Virant’s book. He basically cold-packs and pickles citrus segments in a combination of wine, vinegar and sugar, adding a touch of salt and some spices or herbs. You could just refrigerate the mixture to cure or process it in a water bath canner. I did both. I made 2 pints of mandarin orange aigre-doux in red wine, 2 in white wine (both with peppercorns), and a third with Meyer lemon, thyme and bay leaf. This was a few weeks ago. I normally would wait a month or two before eating but I checked the orange segments and they were wine-colored all the way through, so I figured we could sample.

To turn aigre-doux into a sauce, Virant suggests pureeing the orange segments with the liquid or whisking in a “knob of butter.” The latter is basically a red “beurre blanc,” which involves whisking tiny bits of cold butter into a warm sauce base, emulsifying it. The temperature of the butter is important since it will otherwise melt into the liquid instead of emulsifying. After I pureed the orange segments with the liquid, I decided that the small bits of orange membrane weren’t contributing much. So for the final version, I strained the puree and made a modified beurre blanc, with less butter than typical since I was serving it with greens as well as scallops.

Finally, to get dinner on the table, I assembled gorgeous leaves of red Boston lettuce on a plate (I loved the flowing red tips), and dressed them lightly with aigre-doux liquid (no oranges or butter). On went locally fished sea scallops that had been seared in a little butter and olive oil, and a few spoons full of my version of beurre blanc. Sprinkled with chive blossoms, snippets of garlic chives, and thinly sliced organic kumquats, this was a beautiful and delicious spring supper.

Since I had a little sauce and orange segments left over, I used them in a side salad of cubed beets and kumquats. Pretty and flavorful.

So, what would I do differently in making the aigre-doux? While I thought the result was excellent, the recipe was poorly written for canning since it called for keeping a vinegar solution hot while you performed other tasks, like preparing the jars. Vinegar used in canning and pickling is a major deterrent to bacteria, and it loses its potency when heated. I reduced Virant’s recipe to make 2 versus 5 pints, He runs a restaurant so he can handle volume and I experiment in small batches. I did stick with pints but in the future, I would consider using half-pint jars, so that a single jar can service a single meal. Since I was experimenting with three aigre-doux mixtures as mentioned above, I had all ingredients and the canning kettle and jars ready to go and made them quickly one after the other so that six jars could be processed at once.  Here’s the recipe for the orange aigre-doux with red wine. The white wine version used a fruity Austrian white wine and champagne vinegar.

Mandarin Orange Aigre-Doux adapted from Paul Virant

For 2 pints:

4 mandarin oranges, preferably organic and seedless (2 for each pint jar)

1 2/3 c red table wine (I used a California merlot)

2/3 c red wine vinegar

1/3 c sugar

½ tsp Kosher salt

2 tsp black peppercorns (1 tsp per jar)

Prepare the jars for water bath canning by heating them to the boiling point in a large kettle with a rack on the bottom. This takes about 20-30 minutes.  Place a small pan of water on the stove, which you will later use to sterilize the lids and soften their rubber rings.

Meanwhile, peel the oranges and separate them into segments, removing the excess pith.

Combine the wine, vinegar, sugar, and salt in a saucepan.

When the jars are ready, turn off the heat under the canning kettle, and remove the jars to the counter. Add the peppercorns and orange segments to the jars.

Place the saucepan with the wine mixture over medium-high heat and bring just to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar and salt.  Transfer the liquid to a heat-proof pitcher or measuring cup with a spout, and pour it over the orange segments, leaving ½-inch of head room. Insert a chopstick into the jars to release any air bubbles, and wipe off the rims.

Meanwhile, bring the small pan of water to a boil, turn off the heat and add the jar lids.  Remove the lids and dry them, place them on the jars and screw on the bands.

Place the filled jars in the canning kettle, lid on, and bring the water to a boil. Process for 15 minutes after the water returns to a boil. Turn off the heat, remove the lid and let the jars sit for 5 minutes in the water before removing them to a counter to sit, undisturbed, until cool.

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Meyer Lemon Marmalade with Tarragon

This marmalade bridges winter and spring by combining the last citrus with the first fresh herbs.  Meyer lemons are sweeter and more delicate than standard lemons and therefore lend themselves to a lighter touch. And licorice-like tarragon imparts a grassy freshness that counteracts the sugar. My basic recipe for lemon marmalade is one of the most consulted recipes on this blog, yielding thousands of hits since I posted it in January 2010. In late fall and early winter, I favored the addition of ginger and/or rosemary. Here I am pleased to celebrate the arrival of spring.

Meyer Lemon Marmalade with Tarragon

6 Meyer lemons (to make 3 cups sliced: see prep steps below)

Approximately 1¾ c water

Approximately 2¼  cups sugar

A few sprigs of fresh tarragon, a few large leaves reserved

Prepare the lemons. Wash them and split them in half lengthwise. Slice a V-groove to remove the center core, and set aside the seeds. Slice each half lengthwise and then crosswise into thin (1/16 – 1/8”) pieces. Chip the end rind into 3/8” pieces. This yielded 3 cups of sliced lemon. Wrap the reserved seeds in cheesecloth tied with a string and set aside.

In a deep pot, combine the lemons and water barely to cover (approximately 1¾ cups of water), and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat. Cook for about 5 minutes, cool, cover and set aside overnight in the refrigerator. (You can add the tarragon at this point to infuse the mixture or add it when cooking as I did.)

Return to the stove and simmer until the rind is cooked but not mushy, around 7 minutes. Place a saucer in the freezer for testing the gel. Prepare jars for water bath canning.

Measure the lemon mixture and add sugar in a ratio of 3:4, meaning ¾ cup sugar to 1 cup of fruit. Pour lemon mixture back into the pot, add the pouch of seeds and a large sprig or two of tarragon, and cook at a medium boil for about 25 minutes, stirring frequently to prevent a scorched bottom. Remove the seed pouch before the marmalade finishes, so that it doesn’t get too sticky, and discard. The marmalade is done when a droplet added to the frozen plate doesn’t run. I sometimes use a candy thermometer, which shows a gel point at 221 degrees Fahrenheit, but I find that cooking the marmalade that long makes it denser than I like. In any case, watch the pot carefully and stir the mix as progress accelerates toward the end.

Remove the tarragon and the pouch of seeds. Spoon the marmalade into hot sterilized jars through a canning funnel. Add a fresh tarragon leaf to each jar, pushing it down into the marmalade. Clean the jar rims, top with new flat lids that have been dunked in just-boiled water, screw on the lids and process the jars in boiling water in your canner for 10 minutes. Turn off the stove, remove the lid and let sit for 5 minutes; then remove to the counter to cool, undisturbed, for a few hours.

Makes 2 ½ cups (two 8-oz jars and one 4-oz jar)

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Orange-braised Celery

Even before I challenged myself to eat as locally as possible during the winter months, I favored the fruits and vegetables of cold months, eschewing zucchini and eggplant and tomatoes as summer fare. Citrus and celery fall into the chosen group. Citrus is obvious since it is abundant in the south. Celery maybe is less obvious, but on my list because of its association with carrots and onions (good keepers), as the aromatic base for European dishes. Celery, however, is one of the “dirty dozen,” foods most likely to retain – and therefore transmit to us – pesticides that treat them. As a result, I buy only organic celery, choosing mostly to rely on the Asian celery perennial in my garden for broths and on the (way too tough) stalks that are harvested (sometimes) from our CSA.

 All that said, I can’t resist a winter braise of Pascal celery, since cooked celery is a family favorite. While I normally braise celery on top of the stove, I chose the oven because the celery takes some time (over an hour) and I didn’t have the patience to babysit it. After washing the celery (it harbors dirt) and cutting the stalks to fit a buttered roasting pan, I chopped the tender tops and leaves along with some onion and sautéed them lightly in butter. I added the juice of an orange and a teaspoon of orange zest and let the liquid reduce. In went chicken broth, halfway up the volume of the celery stalks. Covered with foil, it baked in a slow oven until tender, over an hour! I cranked up the heat and topped the celery with coarse breadcrumbs tossed in orange zest, celery leaves, thyme and butter, to form a crispy crust. This had great textural and flavor contrasts. The silky and almost unctuous celery was sparked by the addition of the orange, an antidote to what promises to be a damp and chilly evening.

You might notice that I added no salt. Celery is naturally high in sodium so I didn’t feel the need. The next time I make this, I might add chopped black olives cured in oil to the topping. 

Orange-braised Celery

About 6 inner stalks of celery

Butter

1 small or half a medium onion, chopped

Zest and juice of 1 orange

About 1/3 c chicken broth

¼ tsp dried thyme

½ c coarse fresh breadcrumbs

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Butter a small casserole dish such as an oval Le Creuset enameled cast iron pan. Wash the celery well and remove any tough strings. Cut the base of the stalks in lengths to fit the pan. Chop the tender tops, including the leaves. Set about a tablespoonful of leaves aside.

Saute the onion and chopped celery in butter until translucent. Add the orange juice and half of the orange zest, adding the other half to the reserved celery leaves. Let the orange juice reduce in the pan, and add 1/3 cup of chicken broth to warm it. Pour the liquid and vegetable mixture over the celery stalks, adjusting the liquid so that it comes about halfway up the sides of the stalks. Cover the pan with foil and bake in the oven for about an hour. Check the tenderness and continue to cook until the stalks are tender but not falling apart.

Increase the oven heat to 425 degrees. Sauté the breadcrumbs in a little butter and toss them with the reserved celery leaves, orange zest and thyme. Spoon over the top of the celery and bake until the breadcrumbs are brown and crispy, about 7 minutes.

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Sweet Preserved Kumquats

Organic kumquats sold in bulk finally arrived in our market and I was relieved. I’ve been making preserved kumquats (similar to preserved lemons) in batches throughout the last two winters and was worried that I’d miss the season. I learned this trick from Tigress of Can Jam fame and it’s genius. I see that she has posted another version this year on her blog Tigress in a Jam. I tinkered with a previous recipe of hers and am finally hitting proportions of lemon juice, sugar and salt that I like.

I serve them as a garnish for vegetables such as broccoli and roasted cauliflower, or a salad of bitter greens. My favorite is to use the liquid as a dressing for salad, since the skin of the kumquats yields its oils and you basically need nothing else. I have to admit though that a little toasted butternut seed oil is a pretty special addition. 

Sweet Preserved Kumquats adapted from Tigress in a Pickle

6-8 oz kumquats, preferably organic (enough to fill a pint jar)

½-2/3 c freshly squeezed lemon juice

¼-1/3 c turbinado sugar

2 tbsp salt

1½ tsp ground black pepper

Seasonings: either 1½ tsp fennel seeds plus1 tsp whole cumin seed, OR1 tsp coriander plus 1 tsp whole cumin seed plus a 1” piece of cinnamon stick OR 5 whole cloves OR …

Wash the kumquats well, dry them thoroughly and let them sit to finish drying for at least several hours, if not overnight.

Remove any vestige of the stem, and slice the kumquats vertically but not all of the way through. Remove the largest seeds. Place them in a pint jar.

Gently heat the lemon juice and the sugar over low heat, stirring, just until the sugar is dissolved. Cool.

Select your spices and lightly crush them.

Add the salt, pepper and chosen spice combination to the kumquats in the jar and pour in the cooled liquid. Cover with a tight-fitting lid and give the jar a good shake. (You can skip warming the sugar and lemon juice, but the raw sugar doesn’t always dissolve well.)

Set the jar aside on the counter, shaking daily for a week to ten days, until the kumquats have softened but still have some firmness. Refrigerate. They can keep for a long time but not around here. They’re too good.

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Vin d’Oranges

Putting food in jars is not instant gratification. It’s not like cooking supper, when you’ll know right away whether you’ve been successful. Sometimes you have to wait a few months to know if you guessed right and a whole year before you can make another attempt. It’s really no different from gardening in that sense, where it pays to keep notes. I make vin d’oranges – an intensely flavored orange aperitif — most every year but by the time that it’s ready to discuss, the season for the best citrus has passed. With citrus, which is pretty available, there’s more of a chance that if you write about something, your readers might not have to wait until next year to try it. This concoction cures in about 40 days. (On this topic, the most frustrating fruits are cherries since the local harvest happens once a year over a few-day period but marinating or pickling takes months before you have anything to taste.)

The photo here is of the finished vin d’oranges that I made last year. I deviated from my normal method and I regretted it since the drink became cloudy due to the fact that I ground the oranges instead of slicing them. I must have thought I would get more “essence” from them, but what I got was murky though completely and utterly delicious. It was also paler and less colorful because of the type of oranges that I used. I would love to try this with Cara Cara or blood oranges, both of which are reddish.  

Serve the vin d’oranges very cold in small glasses. You can also add some seltzer, which makes it a kind of boozy Orangina or Aranciata. So this year I went back to the basic recipe that I adapted from Chef Daniel Boulud’s writing in Food & Wine Magazine.

Vin d’Oranges adapted from Daniel Boulud

2-quart jar with a tight-fitting lid

2 organic navel oranges, washed and thoroughly dried

1 organic Meyer lemon, washed and thoroughly dried

1 vanilla bean

½ c granulated white sugar

¼ c water

5 cups white wine (I used Chardonnay)

1 c kirschwasser

Slice the oranges and the lemon in half vertically and then cut into horizontal slices about ¼-inch thick. Cut each slice into three little fan-shaped pieces. Add them to the jar as you go along.

Slice the vanilla bean in half lengthwise and scrape the seeds into the jar. Cut the bean pod into four pieces and add to the jar.

Meanwhile, make “simple syrup” by bringing the sugar and water  to a boil in a small saucepan, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Set aside to cool.

Combine the cooled simple syrup with the wine and kirschwasser and pour over the citrus in the jar. Clamp on the lid and store in the refrigerator for at least 40 days before using. You can decant the liquid then or whenever you’re ready to serve it.

Makes about 1½ quarts of aperitif.

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