Olly Oxen Free: In-House Restaurant!

Clicky to enlarge to readable proportions!

Amid all of the bellyaching baking and sweet tooth pursuits is my fairly new secret cafe endeavor in DC. Olly Oxen Free was borne out of an ambition to anticipate what it might be like to start a food joint some day, and although it's still in its babyhood -- especially in terms of frequency -- this in-house cafe has already been a huge source of education for me. It seems tremendously difficult to come up with new, creative food ideas all of the time, and the first thing I've learned is to always be open to inspiration and to experiment as much as possible. February 13 will mark just the second installment of Olly Oxen Free, although this is at least the tenth menu that I've created for it, and I could not be more excited to get started. The last iteration focused on timing, and this time I'm going to work harder on the ambiance and improving the balance of flavors and proportions -- though I admit that this menu tends toward the rich. I hope that Olly Oxen Free one days leads to collaborations and a new feeling to my community here, but for now I'm really enjoying the anticipation and how this project keeps me on my creative toes! 

Oh, and if you're local and interested in attending, shoot me an email! So far the guest list is lookin' real nice.

Butterscotch Pots de Crème

Thursday as it may be, I still feel as if I only just arrived home from my roisterous weekend in New York. Most of my California dearest live in Brooklyn now, concentrated all easy-like within a few train stops of one another, so I try to visit as often as possible since it's a quick WiFi-powered bus ride away. This trip was especially fun because one of my closest friends from DC was in town visiting her (and our!) friends, so we friend-melded at a karaoke joint in the East Village on our last night there. En Vogue, Dolly Parton, Erasure, Patti Smith, and a few musicals later, and it was 5:00 a.m. and I had lost my voice, developed a crush on an Australian girl, and perfected a karaoke body roll. The night was preceded with a couple of gallery openings, interjected with besties and a lamb burger dinner (be it told: worst vegetarian ever, right here), and bookended by couch-cuddling sessions, so clearly it was a trip fueled by excellence.

With so much fun and distraction all around, I've been having a hard time focusing on baking and other pursuits, but Jason and I had words about creativity and temperament over the weekend, and I feel more energized to keep on keepin' on. So, continuing  the sequence on this blog of rich dairy desserts, I present thee with butterscotch pots de crème. The original called for some wacky sugars that I can never find, so I did my best to substitute and this turned out to be the most insanely rich dessert. It was like eating cold velvet. I might even say it's too rich for my taste, which is weird because I like to eat cheese melted in butter, but some house guests and my pal Bobbie said these pots de crème were spot-on and delicious. I can at least vouch for the flavor being unreal. Please let me know what you think!

Butterscotch Pots de Crème

Adapted from Gourmet via Orangette

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

6 tablespoons muscovado sugar (I used sucanat)

1/4 tablespoon sea salt

6 tablespoons water

2 tablespoons demerara (I used turbinado)

4 large egg yolks

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1.  Set oven rack in direct center and preheat oven to 300 degrees F.  In a small heavy saucepan, combine the cream, muscovado sugar, and sea salt. Cook over medium-high until cream barely simmers and sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat.

2.  In a large, light-colored saucepan, cook the demerara and water over medium-low heat until it bubbles and turns dark golden brown, five to ten minutes (Molly's recipe called for five minutes. I did mine for seven and thought it could have stood to caramelize much more). Remove from heat, and slowly pour in the cream mixture, whisking all the while.

3.  Meanwhile, heat a bunch of tap water.  Then, in a large bowl, whisk the egg yolks and vanilla. Add hot cream mixture in a thin stream, whisking all the while. Set a fine mesh strainer over a clean glass measuring cup and pour the mixture through. Skim off any foam.

4.  Divide custard between four 4-ounce ramekins (I had enough to make five actually). Seal each with a piece of foil. Line a deep, large casserole dish with a dishtowel, and arrange the ramekins on top so that they are not touching. Put the dish into the center of the oven, and then fill the dish with the hot water until it comes halfway up the side. Bake for 40 minutes, or until the sides of the custard are set and the middle still jiggles when shaken.

5.  Remove ramekins to a cooling rack and allow them to come to room temperature. They'll set as they cool. Touch a piece of plastic wrap to the top of each and then refrigerate until cold, a few hours. These will keep covered for a day or two in the fridge, but are best eaten on the same day.

Bourbon Ice Cream

I've been sitting on this bourbon ice cream recipe for a minute, partly because it seems to have made its way around the blogs already, but mostly because the end of 2010 was both a blinding rush of parties and a stultifying burrito fog. Back in California, I baked little, ate lots, vegetated myself into a Law & Order SVU fugue state, and generally dismissed any and all responsibility, save for a sisterly pact to ruin Mom's winning streak in Hearts:  Holidays well done! 

And now I'm back in the emotionally un-regressive land that is my east coast home, ready to kick my creative projects into gear, although not so ready that I'm blogging a spanking-new recipe. All the same, this bourbon ice cream is totally golden, and whether you're snowed-in or not, it's winter-appropriate and delightfully boozy. If you're unsure of ice cream in the winter, I can say with conviction that this recipe in particular makes a killer affogato too.

I hope that it's not too late to wish you a solid New Year! Thanks so much for reading along with me. I hope to share many more delicious projects with you this year!

Bourbon Ice Cream

Adapted from Bon Appetit via Lottie + Doof

2 cups heavy whipping cream

2 cups half-and-half

1/2 cup nonfat dry milk powder (I skipped this, but it would add more creamy if you left it!)

6 large egg yolks

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/4 cup dark brown sugar, packed

1/4 teaspoon coarse kosher salt

7 tablespoons bourbon (original called for five; I used Woodford Reserve)

1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

1.  Bring cream, half-and-half, and milk powder to simmer over medium-high heat in a heavy-bottomed saucepan until powder dissolves. Remove from heat.

2.  Combine egg yolks, sugars, and coarse salt in a large bowl; whisk until thick and blended. Slowly pour hot cream into egg mixture, whisking all the while. Return egg and cream mixture to the pan, and stir over medium-low heat until the the custard thickens enough to leave a trail on the back of a spoon when you draw your finger across it and the temperature registers 175 to 178 degrees F., about three minutes. Remove from heat, and mix in bourbon and vanilla.

3.  Cover custard and refrigerate, stirring occasionally until cold, at least three hours. Process in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions. Cover and freeze until solid, about six hours. Will keep for a week or too!

Five Golden Butters

Man, December moves as fast as lightning and I freely admit that I can’t keep up. In lieu of a full post about bourbon ice cream, cardamom cookies, potato-gruyere tartlets, or chestnut wedding cookies (see how far behind I am?!) this post is dedicated to unveiling the Tanglewood Recipe Box and to reminding you of some excellent holiday-appropriate recipes that it’s definitely not too late to bake. These triple ginger cookies have become a serious year-round favorite in my kitchen, as has this molasses gingerbread and these honey walnut tartlets. Chewy amaretti cookies with chocolate filling, classic peanut brittle, and sugar cookies with espresso topping would all make welcome gifts or contributions to the holiday table!

Quince Pie with Biscuit Top + Kickasserole

For the longest, most incurious time, I thought that quinces were just bootleg pears. I always wondered why farmers market vendors didn't wipe off the cobwebs before selling them, and I instead skipped on to fruit that did not appear to have been colonized by dust bunnies. I still don't know why quinces are furry on the outside, but what I've recently learned is that the quince is pretty much one of the most ancient fruits of all time--preceding the apple in most countries--and that Greek myths and certain biblical stories involving apples might actually be referring to quinces. Ladies of the day used to bite into quinces in order to "perfume their kiss before entering the bridal chamber" (shudder), and I believe it, because this is absolutely the most perfumed fruit I've ever cooked with. Raw, it tastes like an astringent potato, but cooked up and softened, the quince magically becomes rosy and tastes like a more floral apple or a concentrated pear.

Christian tells me this is a Japanese maple. It was at its brightest during the weekend of Kickasserole!

My favorite cooking site, Lottie + Doof, seems to have incidentally started a one-blog education campaign about the fruit when he posted a Martha Stewart quince pie recipe a few weeks back. Lo and behold, that mysterious moldy-seeming pear-ish fruit was explained! And used in a beautiful pie recipe to boot! A pie recipe with no bottom crust, minimal grunt work, and enough disarmingly fruity goodness to cut through the buttery, rich, and fried tides of any Kickasserole feast. This pie, impressive if sort of homely looking as well, ended up being one of my favorite Kickasserole desserts, so much so that I literally licked the plate clean. If you can't find quinces in your area, the technique of this pie would work great with any combination of hard fruits--poach in maple syrup until palatable, cover with a salty biscuit top, and bake until bubbly and awesome.

Just about the whole Kickasserole crew!

Quince Pie with Biscuit Top!

Barely adapted from Martha Stewart via Lottie + Doof

In his version, Tim of Lottie + Doof made a maple whipped cream to go along with the pie. Most regrettably, the kitchen folk and I were not in the proper state to be whipping cream by the time the people were ready for their dessert. There was no love loss, but I'm sure the experience would have been that much better if the pie had been accompanied by the whipped cream.

For the filling

5 quinces, peeled, cored, and quartered

5 cups water

1 cup pure Grade B maple syrup

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1 vanilla bean, split and scraped, pod reserved

2 teaspoons cornstarch

1.  Bring the quinces, water, syrup, sugar, and vanilla seeds + pod to a simmer in a large pot over medium heat. Cover pot with parchment paper, and cook until quinces are soft and rosy pink, about two hours. My quinces turned ruby red, but sometimes they don't change color until late in the process if at all, so be sure to judge doneness by the softness of the fruit. Discard the vanilla pod and proceed with the recipe.

For the topping

1 3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1/3 cup fine yellow cornmeal (grind it finely in a food processor if yours is coarse or medium)

1/3 cup granulated sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

3/4 teaspoons salt

1 1/2 sticks cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

1 cup heavy cream

3 tablespoons slivered almonds

1.  Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Sift the ingredients a second time (this helps giving the biscuits lift as the topping bakes). Cut in butter with a pastry blender or two knives or rub the butter into the dry mixture with your fingers until it resembles coarse cornmeal with some large pieces remaining. Make a well in the center of the mixture. Pour in cream and stir until well-combined.

2.  Using a slotted spoon, transfer quinces to a nine-inch deep-dish pie plate set on a foil-lined baking sheet. Add one cup of the poaching liquid (reserve the rest) and the cornstarch. Toss gently. Arrange large spoonfulls (quarter- to half-cup each) of biscuit dough on top, leaving a hole in the middle; this is your steam vent. Sprinkle almonds on top and bake until biscuits are golden brown and filling is bubbling, about 50 minutes. Allow pie to cool completely; the flavors are a bit strong when warm, and this is much better at room temperature. 

For the maple whipped cream

1 cup heavy cream, chilled

1/4 cup maple syrup

1. Just before serving, whip the cream in a glass bowl until soft peaks form; fold in maple syrup. Garnish pie with scoops of cream, et voila!

And what about that poaching liquid?

Again, Lottie + Doof has the bright ideas! Tim suggested making a cocktail of rye and the leftover poaching liquid, suitably dubbed The Poacher. We mixed the poaching liquid with Knob Creek bourbon and found the flavors to be slightly too intense, so we added some sparkle water and ice and served the drink in a collins glass -- it was pretty outstanding. You could also reduce the liquid to make a syrup for use as a yogurt mix-in or ice cream topping, or maybe as a caramel addition!