White Truffle Oil-Infused Custards with Black Truffle Ragout

I had this canapé at Per Se in October, and it was absolutely delicious. I knew I could make the custard without much difficulty, but the thought of gently slicing through the eggshell to make those adorable little custard cups without cracking the whole thing was daunting. Okay, maybe not exactly daunting... more like it was an easy opportunity for me to deplete the world's egg supply just trying to get eight eggshells to not shatter all over the place. I'm not exactly known for my patience. I also knew the chive chips would be challenging, since I hadn't really had much luck with earlier versions of potato chips.

So, even though this canapé sounds uncomplicated, I brought a whole cargoload of culinary baggage as I prepped for this dish.

Let's start with the chive chips, which as you'll see, did not turn out as I'd hoped. After preheating the oven to 300 degrees, I peeled a russet potato, then pared it down to be the shape of a very thick Band-Aid (about 4" tall by 1" wide). I sliced it as thinly as I could with my mandoline, then put a slice on a Silpat-lined baking sheet that had been brushed with melted clarified butter. I put a chive tip on top of that slice, then topped it with another matching slice of potato:


I placed another buttered Silpat face down on top of these chips, weighted it with another baking sheet, then put them in the oven for 35 minutes, turning the pan halfway through the cooking time. Here's what they looked like when they were done:


Whoopsie. Obviously, I need more practice in the slicing arena. The French Laundry Cookbook says you can store these chips in an airtight container for up to two days. So, I let mine cool, then stored them for just two hours and they got all floppity, bendy, and depressing. Only one of the chips stayed nice and crisp and stiff, and you'll see that in the final photo. The rest just looked tired and sad and in need of a certain little blue pill when I picked them up. Poor little guys.

But let's not dwell on that. Just like the agnolotti, I'll get those chips right if it's the last thing I do. On to the custards!

When I read that I had to cut the bottoms off multiple eggs to make this dish, I was CERTAIN I'd screw up at least a dozen of them in the process, so I bought three dozen eggs for this dish, even though I only needed 8 eggs. What can I say? I wanted to be prepared.


I took each egg, one-by-one, and placed it on the counter, gently swaddled with a dishtowel:


Isn't he just precious?

Using a serrated knife, I gently sawed back and forth on the wide end of the egg until I could pop off the "lid" that formed. I put the egg whites and yolks into a bowl nearby and rinsed out each eggshell, gently wiping out the inside with my finger so as to remove all the membrane.


I threw away the lids and turned each eggshell upside down in the egg container so they could drain and dry out a bit before I put the custard into them. And, I know you must be dying to know -- did it take all THIRTY-SIX eggs to get the eight I needed? No, it did not. It merely took nine of them. I am proud to admit (and please feel free to call CNN to get this on the crawl), I mutilated just one egg beyond repair -- all the rest happened quite easily.

As the eggshells dried, I made the custard. I heated milk and cream in a saucepan then added it to a blender. I turned on the blender, and while the custard base was misxing, I added truffle oil, two eggs, salt and white pepper. I strained the mixture through a chinois and into a small pitcher -- in this case, my coffee press carafe:


See how it separated? That's a good thing. I removed the foamy top part and poured the darker yellow custard into the empty eggshells, which I'd turned upright in the carton, and placed in a baking dish with some newspaper on the bottom to more evenly disperse heat:



This is one time I wish I had used white eggs instead of brown eggs because the edges of the shell might not have looked so haggard.

Next, I filled the baking dish with warm water so that it came up around the sides of the eggshells:


The French Laundry Cookbook suggests baking the custards in this water bath at 275 degrees for 45 minutes. After about 40 minutes at 275, I checked on them to see if I needed to take them out a few minutes early and was surprised to see how runny they were. So, I decided to up the temperature to 350 degrees -- for a total cooking time of an hour and 15 minutes -- 40 minutes on 275 degrees and another 35 minutes at 350. Here's what they looked like when they were finished:


While they were baking, I made the truffle ragout. I combined some veal stock and a few drops of white wine vinegar in a small saucepan and brought it up to a simmer until it had reduced and thickened from a stock consistency to more of a sauce. I added some minced black truffle and a little bit of butter and white truffle oil to finish it:


I wish you could've been here to smell this ragout. I don't think there are adjectives in the English language to do it justice. It's like when you've been cooking something and then you walk outside to pick up the mail or take the dog for a quick walk around the block and you come back and open your front door and the *ka-pow* and *aaahhhh* are followed by a huge grin of satisfaction that something you created can make a house smell like a home.

To plate, I placed each egg on top of one of my grandmother's green shot glasses (because I don't have egg cups and didn't feel the need to buy any), spooned in a bit of the truffle ragout, and stood a chive chip in the custard. This was the only chip that looked good (and that's even a stretch). I didn't take photos of the sad, droopy ones because they were too pathetic.


We stood around the butcher block in the kitchen and ate them with little espresso spoons... which was kind of funny, since these were the de facto birthday cake for my neighbor's birthday. Of course, we had to bust on him for having a manly-man birthday and eating these dainty little treats instead of diving into a steak and big-ass chocolate cake. Guess you had to be there.

Anyhoo, these custards were really, really good -- and if I do say so myself (which I can because it's my blog and I can do whatever I want, so there), these were almost as good as the one I had at Per Se, which made me feel pretty frickin' spectacular. I'd make these custards again in a heartbeat because they were really pretty easy to do, and that truffle ragout was out of this world and added so much depth and fragrance to the dish. I'm a big fan of all things custard-y, so I knew I'd enjoy both cooking and eating this dish. It's just those damn chips that I need to work on for next time. I think I need to go to chip school. Must look into that. Could you imagine what an awesome place chip school would be? Almost as good as bacon school, caramel school, or coffee school. Chip school..... a girl can dream, can't she?

Up Next: Roasted Sweetbreads with Applewood-Smoked Bacon, Braised Belgian Endive, and Black Truffle Sauce

Resources:
Chives, and russet potato from Whole Foods
Eggs from TPSS Co-op
Organic Valley milk and cream
Black truffle from D'Artagnan
Saveurs white truffle oil
365 organic butter

Music to Cook By: Gap Band; Ultimate Collection. And now I can't stop singing "Ooops, up side your head, I said ooops upside your head." I also remember the dance the Gap Band did to "(You) Dropped a Bomb on Me" when they were on Soul Train back when I was in sixth or seventh grade, so of course I had to scuttle around the kitchen doing that dance while the custards were cooking. I can't tell you the year that World War I began, but I can remember the Soul Train dance to "You Dropped a Bomb on Me." I'm excellent.

Read my previous post: "Coffee and Doughnuts"

"Coffee and Doughnuts" -- Cappuccino Semifreddo with Cinnamon-Sugar Doughnuts

Doughnuts? Me love you longtime. My late uncle was a baker, and his bakery was in my little hometown across the street from my elementary school. Walking to school in the morning, you could smell all the cakes, doughnuts, breads and cookies being made, and after school was out, we'd flock to the bakery to gaze at the wedding cakes on display, and order a doughnut. Or three. Glazed, sugared, iced, custard-filled... they were all really delicious, and I felt super-special because it was MY uncle and his sister and brother-in-law who were making them.

After he passed away and the family bakery had changed hands, I had a hard time finding doughnuts that were as good as his. Dunkin' didn't come close. Neither did Krispy Kreme. Other smaller bakeries couldn't match them either. It wasn't until I had the "Coffee and Doughnuts" at Per Se that I had a Ratatouille/Anton Ego moment in which I was transported back to that bakery (which happens to be right across the street from the famed chestnut tree I've written about). One bite of the doughnut at Per Se, and I could smell my hometown bakery with its flourescent overhead lighting and faux wood paneling, and recall how tall I was by what I could see in the bakery case. I could see the faces of my childhood friends and the winter coats they wore. The only other time a doughnut had that kind of impact was when I bit into a maple bacon doughnut at VooDoo Doughnuts in Portland, OR. The texture and weight of the doughnut was the same, and it was a really nice moment.

And even though I rarely, if ever, have doughnuts with coffee, it's no secret that I love coffee. I love the way it smells and tastes, and it's the first thing to make me smile in the morning. I make mine using a French press and prefer it that way over a drip machine.

All that is to say that because I love coffee and doughnuts so so so much, this is one of the dishes I'd been most looking forward to making since I started this project. I lust over the photo of it in the book (page 261) and practically committed the recipe to memory, I've read it so many times over the years. Let's not keep you groovy cats waiting any longer. Here goes...

The day before I knew I was going to serve this, I prepped the doughnut batter and made the cappuccino semifreddo (semifreddo = "half cold"). To make the semifreddo, I put a few egg yolks and some sugar into my mixer bowl, added the whisk attachment, then scraped the seeds from a vanilla bean into the mix. I whisked it for about 13-14 minutes on medium speed; the mixture tripled in volume.



I then beat in the coffee extract and removed the bowl from the mixer stand and let it sit in a bowl of ice. Using another mixing bowl, I whipped some heavy cream with some sugar (until it held soft peaks), then folded it into the coffee-laced mixture:


I then whipped some egg whites with some sugar until they were frothy. I did this by hand because I ran out of clean mixing bowls. I folded this into the main mixture and then spooned it into coffee cups:




I covered each coffee cup with plastic wrap and put them in my freezer overnight:


The last thing I had to do that night was start the doughnuts because they needed an overnight proofing.

The first task was to make the "sponge." To do that, I put some water in the bowl of my mixer, then added the yeast. The French Laundry Cookbook says to use compressed fresh yeast. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't find any anywhere. I did a little research and calculated what I thought would be a mathematically appropriate substitution using fresh bakers' yeast instead. So, after about a half-hour of number crunching by hand and on the calculator (I'm very serious, I totally did this), I added what I thought would be the right amount of fresh bakers' yeast, dissolving it in the water. I then added the flour to the bowl, attached the dough hook to the mixer, and mixed is slowly for about 2 minutes, until everything was thoroughly combined. I transferred this mixture to a bowl:


I covered it with plastic wrap and a towel and let it sit at room temperature for two hours until it had doubled in size:


In a separate bowl, I combined more yeast into some milk, and stirred it until it had dissolved. In my mixing bowl, I combined flour, sugar, and salt, then started mixing it using the dough hook attachment. I poured in the milky yeast mixture slowly, then added a few egg yolks and some melted-then-cooled butter. Last but not least, I added the proofed sponge and the rest of the flour. I mixed this on low speed until everything had combined. I then cranked up the speed a little bit and kneaded the dough for about 4 minutes. The dough formed a ball and cleaned the sides of the mixing bowl. I removed this newly formed dough and put it in another bowl, covered it with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to proof overnight.

The next day, I placed the chilled dough on my lightly floured kitchen block and rolled it out to about a half-inch thickness. Using a doughnut cutter (because the thought of using two separate biscuit cutters did not appeal to me in any way, shape or form), I cut out about a dozen doughnuts and doughnut holes. I put them on a parchment-lined baking sheet and covered them with plastic wrap I'd sprayed with Pam. At the same time, I heated a pot of oil in which to cook the doughnuts.

After about 15 minutes at room temperature, they'd risen to be 3/4" high (just like the book said) and looked like this:


When I removed the plastic wrap, hilarity did not ensue:


Isn't that gorgeous? Don't you want an oil painting of that over your fireplace mantel? I know I do. Jeesh. How embarrassing. I didn't want to trash it all and start over because I just didn't. I'm sure this happened because I used the wrong kind of yeast, and I just didn't have the time or energy at that point to drive 100 miles (okay, four) to a bakers' supply place to get the fresh compressed yeast I had been looking for. So, I figured I could scrape together bits of the dough and make doughnut holes. Except, when I tried to roll the dough into balls, it just wouldn't cooperate, so instead, I made, well, you'll see in a minute. But if you make ANY cracks about The Colonel or 11 herbs and spices, I will personally kick your ass.

I deep fried the non-doughnuts and non-holes and while they were still hot, I rolled them in this lovely bowl of cinnamon sugar:


I let them cool on a baking rack while I got the milk warmed up to finish the semifreddo (which I'd taken out of the freezer a few minutes before). Wanna see what they look like? I know you're dying to. Oh boy....


They're dough-NOTS!!!

I warmed then frothed some milk until it was way foamy, then spooned some over each semifreddo to look like a real live cappuccino. Here's what the final dish looked like:

Wait, who wants a bowl of fried chicken with their coffee???


Kidding. Here's the final plating:


And, here's what it looks like when you've dug in and started enjoying the delicious goodness that is this dessert:


Yummmmmmm.... even though the dough-NOTS looked like something from a Swanson's HungryMan meal still left in the freezer from 1972, they actually tasted really, really good if I do say so myself. They were still warm, and their texture and weight were perfect. The cinnamon-sugar balance was great, too. The semifreddo? Wow. Just wow. The cold of the semifreddo and the warm of the milk was really playful and delicious. Despite the earlier foibles, I was really pleased with how this dish turned out, taste-wise. However, I'd forgotten that the coffee extract has more than a little alcohol in it, and I think the combination of alcohol and caffeine, along with the sugar on the doughnuts made us loopy and tired, interspersed with bouts of extreme punchiness for the next hour or so. I just giggled a lot and my eyes got heavy, and then felt like it was SPRING BREAKKKKKKK!!!! WOOO-HOOOOO!!!!! Well, maybe not that bad, but we definitely got a kick out of this dessert, as well as the impromptu wet t-shirt contest that followed. Kidding.

Wanna see what the Coffee & Doughnuts at Per Se looked like? It's the only photo I took all night. I knew going into the dinner I didn't want to photograph every course and post about it because I just didn't. But by the time we got to dessert and we'd had a bottle of wine, this looked so pretty and I was so happy and sated (and a little loopy) that I pulled out my Blackberry and snapped a quick one:


Sigh... maybe someday I can do that. Just not this time.

Up Next: White Truffle Oil-Infused Custards with Black Truffle Ragout

Resources:
Eggs, vanilla bean, cinnamon and yeast from TPSS Co-op
Domino sugar
Neilsen-Massey coffee extract, bought at Sur La Table
Organic Valley heavy cream and milk
David's kosher salt
365 organic butter and canola oil

Music to Cook By: Ella Fitzgerald; The Johnny Mercer Songbook and The Rodgers and Hart Songbook. I think I own every recording ever made of Ella's voice. If I had to go back in time and be someone else, it's a tie between being her or Dorothy Parker. Or a hybrid of the two. Also, I'd like to be Pat Benatar, although Pat Benatar is kind of 1983's answer to Ella, isn't she? Anyhoo, back to Miss Thing. If you don't have some Ella in your collection, you're missing out. Bigtime. There's no better voice in the past 100 years. And, she makes it sound so damn easy.


Read my previous post: Venison Chop with Pan-Roasted Butternut Squash and Braised Shallots

Venison Chop with Pan-Roasted Butternut Squash and Braised Shallots

I grew up in South Central Pennsylvania in a little town not far from the Susquehanna River, and within spitting distance of the Amish country. Not that the Amish are big spitters. Neither were we. It's just a colloquialism. Nevermind.

Soooooooo, when I was in high school, no one would show up to class the Monday after Thanksgiving because it was the first day of hunting season. Seriously. Of my entire class of 144 students, only 3 or 4 of us turned up to school that day every year. Everyone else went hunting, or their parents went hunting so they played hooky. A few days later, the kids would bring in photos of their kill. Picture after picture of a ten-point buck, fully gutted and hanging from an open garage door, with a garden hose rinsing out their insides. From these deer, people made bologna, steak, and other cuts we all grew up referring to as "venison." I'm not opposed to hunting at all, but I could never get those images out of my head every time I tried deer bologna or venison, so I could never really enjoy it.

Add to that the fact that when I was much younger (maybe 7 or 8), my dad's secretary's brother (or something like that) went hunting somewhere in Alaska or Canada or Outer Mongolia and brought back what he said was venison. He gave a slab of it to my parents and my mom decided to invite some people over for dinner (including the hunter's family member who worked for my dad, but not the hunter himself, oddly) to try it. She said recently that just by looking at the meat, she knew it was going to be tough and might be difficult to prepare. I don't remember how she ended up doing it -- part braise, and part something else I think -- and when it was done, it was the same blue-ish, purple color it was when it started out. Mmmmm-mmmm....

I think they had to break out the electric knife (normally used for turkey carving) that night to slice individual servings. Using steak knives, each of us sawed away to try and get a taste of the meat, and had to chew each bite for two or three minutes to break it down enough to swallow it and not choke. I remember taking one bite and excusing myself (with less dramatic flair than you might imagine) to go spit it out in the toilet. Man, that stuff was bad. We found out later it was caribou or moose or yak or something, and not deer or elk or what most of us consider traditional venison. Now that I'm an adult, I've ordered venison twice in a restaurant since then and I didn't like it. Both times, it was dry and tough, and utterly tasteless.

So, you can imagine my JOY! and DELIGHT! when I knew I'd be making venison as part of this project. When I went shopping for it, I didn't like any of the cuts I saw at Eastern Market, so I decided to order it online from D'Artagnan. They source their venison from a farm in New Zealand, so it wasn't the cheapest thing in the world. But, people whose opinions I respect kept telling me how much they liked venison, and how good it is for you (low in fat, high in protein), so I was hoping to change my venison mojo and make this a dish we'd all enjoy.

The first thing I did was the day before the venison arrived -- I made venison quick sauce. These "quick sauces" are anything but fast to prepare, but I do think they make a difference in some of the dishes. The first thing I did was heat some canola oil in a stock pot, in which I later seared and browned some beef bones.


I cooked them for about ten minutes on each side, then added some water to the pot. I deglazed the pan and kept cooking it until the water had evaporated and the bones began sizzling and popping again. Next, I added some turkey stock. The French Laundry Cookbook calls for chicken stock but I had run out of it, so I used the turkey stock I'd made just after Thanksgiving and had frozen. I kept cooking the bones until the stock had evaporated, further deglazing the pan.


For the next deglazing, I added carrots, onions, leeks and blueberries:


The recipe called for huckleberries, which I couldn't find anywhere here in the area (fresh or frozen), so I substituted blueberries. The moisture in the vegetables allowed for this third deglazing:


After the vegetables had caramelized a bit, for the fourth deglazing, I added two cups of veal stock, more turkey stock, and a few cups of water. I simmered this mixture for nearly an hour, skimming every few minutes to remove the oil and other impurities that rose to the top:


I strained this liquid through a strainer, first to remove the bones, vegetables and other nonsense, then two more times just to further clarify the liquid. I put the liquid into a smaller saucepan and reduced it over medium-low heat until there was just about a cup of it left:


That's how you do Quick Sauce, kids. And, doing it the day before you're going to make the actual dish is a big help. I wish I'd had venison bones to use, but I only had beef bones. I think it worked well, but I'm curious to know how different it would be not only to use venison bones, but also huckleberries.

So now, let's talk about the actual venison dish, 'cause I can tell you're getting hungry.

The first thing I did was prepare the shallots. I put two shallots with some thyme, olive oil and a wee bit of salt onto some tinfoil, which I then folded closed and put into a 350-degree oven for a half hour:


When they were done, I peeled them and cut off the root end, then cut them into small wedges:



While the shallots were in the oven, I prepared the venison. After frenching the bones as best I could, I tied a piece of kitchen twine around each chop to hold it together and bring the bone closer in:



I put the chops into the refrigerator as I finished preparing the rest of the dish. Next up? The butternut squash. I peeled that sucker with my kickass can-peel-anything-even-George-Hamilton's-face-probably OXO peeler and cut out some rounds, which I then made even more gorgeous by using a 2" biscuit cutter:




I scored each of the rounds and seasoned it with a little salt and pepper while I brought a pot of water up to a boil. I blanched and drained the squash rounds and got them ready for their final cooking step, which you'll see shortly.

I got the venison quick sauce out of the refrigerator and gently warmed it over low-medium heat. I also added some brunoise and butter to the shallots and warmed that over low-medium heat.


My final prep step before finishing this dish was to make some tasty, delicious, marvelous, wonderful, love-tastic bacon. Each serving of this dish was to be topped with a slice or two of bacon. Mine? Had five slices.


When the bacon was crispy and I was finished drooling all over the place like a lovesick puppy, I drained it on paper towels, cracked my knuckles, got out all my serving plates and silverware and prepared to dazzle myself by pulling this dish together because it already smelled to good in my house that I was really getting hungry. I called to give my neighbors the five-minute warning that they needed to get their butts over to my house, pronto!

Then, my WonderTwin powers activated and I took the shape of someone who can simultaneously cook venison AND butternut squash rounds AT THE SAME TIME without burning them or setting the house on fire. I heated some canola oil in two large sauté pans. I seasoned the venison with salt and pepper and put them in the pan. While they started cooking (I didn't touch them for about 3 minutes when they were ready to be turned over), I put the blanched (parboiled, technically, I suppose) butternut squash rounds into the other pan.


I cooked the other sides of both the venison and the squash and set about plating. Here we go; first, a spoonful of the venison quick sauce (which smelled so hearty, meaty and earthy):


Next, the squash:


Now, the venison (with the twine removed, obviously):


And finally, something I love even more than the idea of Mike Bloomberg being my boyfriend, or you know, the President of the United States... bacon:


I also put the shallot mixture off to the side, as you can see in that photo. This was outstanding. The venison was cooked just right -- medium to medium-rare -- and those who didn't like the rare-ish parts just ate around the edges. More for me, thankyouverymuch! The combination of these elements, in both taste and texture, were spectacular. It's completely changed how I look at and think about venison. I'm definitely adding it to my repertoire on a more regular basis, just like I have with duck breast since I made that. The venison sauce was full-bodied and reminded me of how different yet familiar an Oregon pinot noir was the first time I tasted it. The butternut squash was gorgeous and went so well with the dish. The venison chop was delicious... really, really good. And, well, who doesn't love bacon?

All in all, this was a great dish, and one I would happily do again and again. And, one that clearly the wildlife in my neighborhood enjoyed, too:


That raccoon (who lives under my deck and is that fat because I obviously have awesome garbage to eat) dragged the venison bones all around my yard and down the street that night. Dick.

Up Next: "Coffee and Doughnuts" -- Cappuccino Semifreddo with Cinnamon-Sugar Doughnuts

Resources:
Venison chops from D'Artagnan
Produce and herbs from Whole Foods
Bacon from Niman Ranch

Music to Cook By: Peter Gabriel; Shaking the Tree. I don't know how to put into words why I love this album, or why I love Peter Gabriel's music. I just do, and I have since I was 14. There's something to be said for that, I think.

Read my previous post: Happy Blogiversary!

A Very Special French Laundry at Home: Happy Blogiversary!

As I mentioned in my previous post, this is a Very Special French Laundry at Home. And, as wise as you are and as well as you've come to know me, more than a few of you have emailed to ask, "Holy crap, are we going to learn a serious life lesson like on those 'very special' episodes of Facts of Life?"

I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this Very Special edition of French Laundry at Home will not feature cousin Geri. It will not overcome great odds. There will not be a cameo by Charo. It will not recover from tragedy. It will not address a taboo social issue. There will not be a guest appearance by Jim J. Bullock. There will be no hugging, no learning. Kristy McNichol is not in the building.


Instead, there will be champagne and lots of eating because today is a very special day (to me anyway). It's the one-year blogiversary of French Laundry at Home. As you know, I started this site on January 15, 2007 with the intent of spending two years cooking every dish in The French Laundry Cookbook. So much for that timeline, eh? Once I started cooking, I just couldn't stop. It's too freakin' addictive! In just a year, I've cooked 71 out of 100 dishes, and I am having the time of my life. I hope you are, too.

Based on the spike in email and site traffic that started right after Christmas, it seems like many of you have either dusted off your copy of The French Laundry Cookbook, permanently borrowed one from the library, or received a copy as a gift. Congrats, and welcome! Oh, and call someone else for bail money if you get busted for the library theft. I can't help ya there.

Many of you who've been in touch over the past few weeks have asked what my favorite dishes have been so far, or what I would recommend you try if you got The French Laundry Cookbook as a holiday gift, so let me spend my blogiversary telling you just that.

First, let's start with the Top Ten. They're in no particular order, and asking me to rank them would be very Sophie's Choice of you, so I'm not gonna do it. I love all ten equally.

1) Oysters and Pearls: The only oyster dish I will ever eat. Enough said.

2) Linguine with White Clam Sauce: Easy, easy, easy, especially when you cheat and use store-bought pasta like I did. The reason this made the list is not just because it is excellent, it's also because I have an emotional connection to this dish. It came at a time when I found out I had skin cancer and another friend got some bad news about her father. So, it was so wonderful to sit with my friends around my dining room table and have not just this dish, but the giant bowl of leftover pasta with clam sauce and a few glasses of wine to try and feel better. It worked.

3) Sweet Potato Agnolotti with Sage Cream, Brown Butter, and Prosciutto: If it were possible to marry food, meet my new husband. But, ssshhhhh... don't tell my boyfriend, Mike Bloomberg.

4) Black Sea Bass with Sweet Parsnips, Arrowleaf Spinach, and Saffron-Vanilla Sauce: After I divorced the Agnolotti, I'd shack up with this dish for sure. Also, keeping The Bloom in play, because, hello, I think I'd make a fantastic First Lady.

5) Roulade of Pekin Duck Breast with Creamed Sweet White Corn and Morel Mushroom Sauce: One of the best things I've ever put in my mouth. Also see: notes on the duck dish at Per Se. I feel the same way about this dish.

6) Coffee and Doughnuts: I know you haven't seen the post for this yet. It's coming I swear, and it's full of slightly drunk, caffeinated goodness, and doughnuts that are, um, shall we say an interesting shape.

7) Cream of Walnut Soup: I associate this with snow and a cold, cold day. Nothing better than the near-silence outside when it's snowing hard, and you've got a little shot glass of hot cream of walnut soup in your hands. Really, life doesn't get much better than that. Well, except when I become the First Lady in a Bloomberg White House. That might be better than the Cream of Walnut Soup, but not by much.

8) Lemon Sabayon Pine Nut Tart with Honeyed Mascarpone Cream: I hate lemons almost as much as I hate celery, but I loved this dish. Go figure.

9) Tasting of Potatoes with Black Truffle: It's only been a week or so since I've made this, yet I dream about that potato purée all the time.

10) Butter-Poached Maine Lobster with Leeks, Pommes Maxim and a Red Beet Essence: Butter, lobster, beets... three of my favorite foods. It's perfect. The only way to make it better would be to add bacon, so... um.... guess what I'll be trying this weekend?!?!?!?

So, those are the dishes I think I love the most (so far). Now, here are the dishes I think could pop your French Laundry Cookbook cherry:

Gazpacho: So simple and straightforward. You can't screw this up. It's a great place to start.

Gougères: Again, there's really no way to mess this up. They're easy and will be gone in minutes, they're that good.

Black Sea Bass with Parsnips: This was one of the simplest dishes to do, and it's really, really good.

Salmon and Celery: Yes, I know I pitched a fit about how much I hate celery, but you could make it without it, or use something else in its place. This dish was really easy and a real crowd pleaser.


And, the dishes I will likely do over because I'm pissed off they didn't work the first time, or I know I can do them better:

PB&J

Spotted Skate Wing: This time with skate instead of halibut.

Chocolate Cakes with Beet Ice Cream: I need those cakes to work, damnit.

Crème de Farine: I know, I know, being married to Dick Cheney would be a far easier and less painful form of torture, but I don't care. I want to get that dessert right. Or at least, less pitiful-looking. I owe it to The Durf. Durfster. Steeeeve. Steeeeve-a-reeeeno. Duurrrrrrrrfff.

Pot Au Feu: No brainer. Those cock-ups were all my fault. I can make this work. And, so can you -- it's also a pretty easy one, if you can, you know, tell the difference between buying beef and pork. Gah.

Agnolotti: Any kind, any filling. I will go to my grave having accomplished a beautiful agnolotti, even if it takes me until I'm 100 years old.


I know I was all gushy and mushy in my end-of-year post back in December, but I can't close this post without again thanking you for being such great readers. Your witty emails and comments make my day, and even the bitchy ones make me smirk because I can say nasty things back to you as I'm reading your email and you won't know it, so ha ha ha on you!

Before I go, and this really is a Very Special thing, I want to tell you about the money you raised for Share Our Strength, because honestly, I'm blown away. I kicked off the fundraising drive back in August expecting to raise between $250-500 by the end of the year, but really didn't pester you too much about it until closer to Thanksgiving when I just wouldn't shut up about it. And, it worked.

The results are in and my original secret goal of $500 was way off, because from August through the end of 2007, we raised $3,000!

I originally said I would match 10% of the total donation, but I've changed my mind. You guys opened your hearts and your wallets and it's only right that I do the same. So, I'm actually going to match 50% of the total and donate $1,500, for a total of $4,500.

Let me take a moment to thank those who opted-in to be thanked publicly:

Kristen Byrne
Brian Chan
Carolyn Ciesla
Mr. and Mrs. Michael Karchmer
Elizabeth McGhee

I want to thank each and every one of you, on this list or not, who donated to this worthy cause. I am so grateful that you all are as kind and generous as you are.

Thanks again for such a great year, and for making this one-year milestone such a pleasure to reach.

I had the great pleasure of being in New York this past weekend with my family to celebrate my dad's birthday, so I'll be back in a few days with an actual food post. If you want, please feel free to use the comments section to wish my dad a happy birthday. He'd love it. Well, he'll love it once he's done killing me for telling the entire internet about his birthday. Oh well, he's so old he'll probably forget about it in a day, anyway. KIDDING.

Or, use the comments to tell me what you're cooking these days -- French Laundry Cookbook-related, or not. I'm curious...

Up Next: Venison Chop with Pan-Roasted Butternut Squash and Braised Shallots (featuring my backyard version of Marlin Perkins' Wild Kingdom)

Read my previous post: Salmon "Chops" with Celery and Black Truffles

Salmon "Chops" with Celery and Black Truffles

Phone: Beep-boop-boop... Boop-boop-boop-beep. Ring.... ring....

Friend: Hello?

Me: Hi. I'm doing a tasting in about an hour, wanna come over?

Friend: Sure! We'd love to! Oh, I can't wait! Perfect timing! How cool! What are we having? Oh, I don't care -- I'll eat ANYTHING you make!

Me: Salmon with black truffles and celschmwubwa.

Friend: Salmon with what?

Me: Black truffles and celerblummble.

Friend: Black truffles and WHAT?!

Me: Celery. Salmon with black truffles and celery.

Friend. Celery, huh. What time did you say it would be ready?

Me: Oh, in about an hour or so.

Friend: Yeah, about that. See, we have to, um, be somewhere or something in an hour, so, yeah, I don't think we can...

Me: You suck.

Friend: Celery sucks more.


Nothing says lovin' from the kitchen like CELERY, right? Wouldn't you jump at a dinner invitation that included the word CELERY? I mean, c'mon, mmmmmm-mmmmmmm, who doesn't love CELERY? Oh yeah, me. And probably most of you. I've made a French Laundry dish with celery before, and it wasn't bad -- actually, it was one of my favorite dishes thus far, but really. One dish with celery was enough. Must I suffer through another one? Apparently so. I swear, the lengths I'll go to please you rascally rabbits.

Let's see, where to begin. Oh yes, with the CELERY. FFFfffggglllllleeaauurrgghhh....


I washed and peeled them, and then tried really, really hard to understand the instructions in the book. Apparently, I was supposed to peel them and at the same time cut off the rounded parts, slice it lengthwise on a mandoline, cut the slices into a fine julienne about one inch long, then do two salchows and a triple lutz while wearing a blindfold (ten points if you get that reference). Celery on a mandoline didn't sound like something I wanted to risk this particular afternoon, so I threw all caution to the wind and said, "HA! You cannot outsmart ME, Thomas Keller, with your wily celery slicing methods! I will cut them into matchstick-like shapes by HAND instead of risking femoral artery damage while using my mandoline! And YES I know the femoral artery is not on the hand! I am just using that reference because it is funny and I heard it on ER once! Ha-HA!"


Okay, so they aren't perfect, but it's celery fer cryin' out loud. I kind of felt like being mean to it. Maybe I'll be mature NEXT year. Soooooooo, I blanched the celery in salty boiling water, cooled it in an ice bath, then dried it in paper towels and stored it at room temperature until I was ready for plating:


Next thing to prep was this lovely, lovely salmon:


Even though I think salmon is a lazy cop-out item to order in a restaurant, I don't mind making it at home... especially when it's a piece of fish that is this fresh and perfect. The salmon "chops" The French Laundry Cookbook refers to in the title of this dish are actually little pieces of the salmon near the head. Thankfully, the book recommends using a salmon fillet, which I did. I cut the salmon into 6 pieces that were roughly 2x2x1":


I salt and peppered them, and put them in a sauté pan skin side down for about 2 minutes. I flipped them to cook on the flesh side for about a minute, then gently "kissed" the other sides of the salmon to the bottom of the pan to ensure the outside was cooked all around:


The last thing I needed to do was make the sauce. I brought a tiny amount of water to a boil, whisked in a few tablespoons of butter, then whisked in a little bit of truffle oil. I removed it from the heat and whisked in some heavy cream until it was slightly frothy:


It's kind of hard to see the frothy goodness in that photo, but trust me, it was there... and man, did it smell great, too.

Just before plating, I got my black truffle ready for slicing. Remember the truffle? Of course you do:


First on the plate went the sauce:


Then, a little bed of celery:


Don't you love how I just threw it in there and didn't artfully arrange it in any way? Stupid celery doesn't deserve to be artfully arranged, no sir, no how.

Next, a slice of truffle:


Then, a brioche crouton (toasted brioche with a little olive oil and salt):


And last, but not least the salmon:


The skin was nice and crispy, and truth be told, this dish was really delicious. Rave reviews from everyone at the table -- even about the celery. The kids fought over the brioche and wanted more, and nearly everyone liked the salmon. Was this dish easy? You bet. One of the easiest in the book, I think. Would I make it again? Perhaps. I wouldn't buy truffles JUST to make this dish, but if I needed a new way to make salmon at home and had the sauce ingredients at hand (as well as a few parsnips to mash), I'd do this again. It was clean and light, but still substantive. Would I do this dish with celery again? Probably not. Celery root, perhaps. C'mon.... join the celery hate. You know you want to.

Up Next: A Very Special French Laundry at Home; stay tuned.

Resources:
Salmon from BlackSalt
Celery and chervil from Whole Foods
365 canola oil
Saveurs white truffle oil
Organic Valley cream
Black truffle from D'Artagnan
Brioche from the Takoma Park Silver Spring Co-op

Music to Cook By: Grace Potter and the Nocturnals; This is Somewhere. My cousin and her husband (Hi, Heather and Rob!) hipped me to Grace Potter well over a year ago. I hadn't listened to her stuff in awhile, so when it came up in shuffle mode on my iPod, I switched over to listen to her exclusively while I made this dish. I love this music -- it's perfect for a midweek January evening, curled up on the sofa under a blanket with a full belly, the lights low, a full glass of wine sitting in front of me, the dishwasher running in the distant background, and the dog laying here next to me snoring away.

Read my previous post: Tasting of Potatoes with Black Truffle

Tasting of Potatoes with Black Truffle

I hope you all are enjoying the first few days of the new year. I'm having a really nice and easy week, so it was a pleasure to be able to make this dish now that it's really cold and windy outside. Let me also say that I don't think you understand how tempting it is to just post the final photo of this dish, and then the photo of aftermath of what happened when I served it. Man, it's killing me. But I won't do it. I'll just be a culinary tease and make you wait.

Let's start with the mushroom stock. You may recall from my Pot Au Duh post that I already had mushroom stock on hand. I made and froze it a few weeks ago so it'd be ready to go for this dish, and I'd have some extra stock in which to preserve a few black truffles.

I started by grinding up a pound of button mushrooms and some carrot, leek and onion with my food processor. I heated some canola oil in a stockpot, then added the ground vegetables and some curry powder to the pot. Oh, the aroma!


I then added a fresh bay leaf and fresh thyme, as well as 2 quarts of water and simmered it for just under an hour. My kitchen smelled fantastic:


I strained the stock, reserving the vegetables:


I then filled another stockpot with the reserved vegetables, more water and did the same thing again. I then combined both pots of stock (about 12-14 cups), brought it to a boil, then reduced it until I had 4 cups of stock:


This is one of those things that I always want to remember to tell people who write to me asking "what are some of the most important tools you need to do these dishes" -- YOU NEED MANY STOCKPOTS. Well, maybe not MANY, but more than one. I have two 24-quart stockpots, two 16-quart pots and two 8-quart pots, and a nice little mudroom off the kitchen with a rack of shelves on which I can store them. When making these dishes, there's always straining and reducing and straining again followed by more straining and reducing, and it helps to have multiple pots and strainers. Bravo to whoever invented TJ Maxx -- it's the best place to find great cookware at deep, deep discount. Almost all my All-Clad came from there, otherwise I'd have to prostitute myself to buy a frying pan and we wouldn't want THAT now, would we? And, how the hell did I get from writing about mushroom stock to talking about being a hooker for cookware?

Okay, so the mushroom stock was done a few weeks ago. And, I am not a prostitute. Let's be clear about that. I thawed a cup of the stock for this dish and got the other ingredients ready, so let's finally dive into the Tasting of Potatoes with Black Truffle. Once you read this, you're not going to want to make potatoes any other way, I swear.

I placed four Yukon Gold potatoes in a pot:


I covered them with water, brought it all to a boil, and let it boil for about 30 minutes until the potatoes were tender. I drained them and put the pot back on the stovetop over a medium flame to steam out any remaining moisture in the pot.

Now, while the potatoes were cooking I made the mushroom ragout. I cut (but did not peel) an assortment of red and white fingerling potatoes into pieces that were the same size, so they'd cook evenly:



I've never peeled fingerlings because that would be an exercise in stupidity, don't you think? I'd probably peel the skin off my fingers instead. Ack. I was happy to see that The French Laundry Cookbook instructions said I did't have to peel them. I wouldn't have done it anyhow, so there. I put the 3-4 cups of sliced potatoes in a strainer and rinsed them under cold, cold water for about a minute. I put them in a pot with a little bit of salt, and enough water to cover them (plus two more inches). I brought the water to a boil and cooked them for 2 minutes. I drained them in a strainer, rinsed them again with cold water, and set them aside.

During this time, I'd also put the mushroom stock with some truffle juice and vinegar into a pot and reduced it for about 5 minutes. Again, with the great smellage:


I whisked in 6 tablespoons of butter, one at a time, and added the cooked potato slices and simmered it all until the liquid became a thicker sauce consistency.


I added a few tablespoons of brunoise (which I make in large batches and keep in the freezer), as well as some finely chopped black truffles:


I seasoned with a little bit of salt and some pepper until I was satisfied with how it tasted, then kept it warm over very low heat while I finshed the rest of the dish. It's at about this time that those Yukon Golds were finished boiling. So, as you recall, I got me some hot taters I now have to peel without giving myself third-degree burns. I am happy to say that I was able to do it with only 3 swear words and one dropped potato (on the counter, not the floor, whew).


I pushed them through the tamis and put the purée in the now-dried out pot. I stirred in some salt, then alternated stirring in ten tablespoons of butter and a cup of heavy cream -- a little bit of each at a time -- stirring like a crazy madwoman the whole time while the pan was on medium heat. Wanna see how gorgeous it looks? You know you do.


I stirred a little bit of white truffle oil into the mushroom ragout just before plating. And, I didn't do individual platings of this. I did it family style and walked the plate next door for my friend and her daughter to try. As we tucked in with our forks, our eyes grew wide, then closed as we chewed and savored each bite. I knew I had to share it with another friend who lives in the other house next to mine, so the three of us, forks in hand, walked the platter over to our other friend's living room, grabbed some forks from her kitchen on the way there, and a whole gaggle of us sat around and barely spoke to one another as we PUMMELED this dish. Really, after that first bite, there were no words that needed to be spoken. There was no time for talking. There were potatoes to be eaten, and talking might mean less time for the forking and the chewing. Witness:



Um, yeah. Estimated time lapse: 6 minutes (including time walking from one house to another)

If you're playing along with The French Laundry Cookbook (and from the email I'm getting, it sounds like Santa had quite a few of them on his sleigh this year), you'll note I did not make the potato-truffle chips that were also supposed to be part of this dish. You'll recall I made them before, and they didn't really turn out right. So, I didn't want to waste the truffle on them until I could figure out how to do it correctly. That's a project for another time.

But all that aside, wow. Really, just wow. This dish was not just a certified French Laundry at Home PlateLicker™, I'd say it also rates as a Thomas Keller FaceKisser™. Gentlemen, do you have a lady you'd like to impress with your mad cooking skillz? Whip up this dish, and I'm pretty sure you'll get lucky. Girls, need some new earrings? Make these potatoes and I foresee some bling in your future.

The potato purée is out of this world. I mean, with that much butter and cream it had to be good, but this good? Yukon Gold are my favorite potatoes to make mashies with, and this was just delicious. Better than delicious. Unequalled among the legions of potatoes I've eaten in my lifetime. The potato-mushroom ragout was outstanding, too, both in terms of texture contrast and taste. I was kind of bummed I hadn't set any aside to use in an omelet the next morning. This whole dish was outstanding; truly outstanding.

If you're looking for something easy to make for a special dinner (or if you're really feeling indulgent), do either or both of the components of this dish. You won't be sorry. And, you might even be inspired to write a certain letter afterward (Dear Penthouse Forum, I never thought this would happen to me! I was making the potato puree from The French Laundry Cookbook when... bow-chicka-bow-wow).

Up Next: Salmon "Chops" with Celery and Black Truffles

Resources:
Potatoes and mushrooms from Whole Foods
Truffle and truffle juice from D'Artagnan
365 organic butter
Organic Valley heavy cream

Music to Cook By: Ugh, this is soooo embarrassing, but it was the soundtrack from the movie "P.S. I Love You". Even though it was one of the worst movies I've ever seen, the music was fantastic, and was the only reason I could tolerate sitting through that dreck. Generally, I can't stand Celtic or Irish music or bands (well, except U2, but they're not really doin' Irish music, now are they?), but for some reason, this soundtrack stuck with me, so I bought it. The only song I skip completely and will likely delete is by James Blunt because his voice bugs me to no end. However, The Pogues have a great tune on there, "Love You 'Til The End," that I really like. So, buy the soundtrack if you want something new and fun, but avoid the movie at all costs, even when it's on TBS or the CW at 2 a.m. four years from now and you have the worst case of insomnia. Seriously, read a book or something. Jeesh.

Read my previous post: French Laundry at Home - A Year in Review